


Black like Motor Oil and Sweet like You

by juliettdelta



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Slow Burn, coffee shop/biker au, i guess i mean it takes them 10 chapters to go on a date, twosomes & threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:05:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 68,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliettdelta/pseuds/juliettdelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee shop/ biker AU. Capable works in a small café called the Green Place, owned, for whatever reason, by badass biker lady Furiosa. Nux and Slit are in the War Boys club, and badly in need of caffeine. (Or, people dealing badly with problems and getting into at least sorta healthy and happy poly relationships and then dealing badly with other problems)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ain't Easy Waking Up

Slit and Nux aren't boyfriends. Definitely not. Either would be outraged at the suggestion. It's too soft for them, they'd say. Too weak. They're not all loving or sweet or romantic, none of them have ever looked at a flower. They're fucking badass. Bikers and mechanics, the War Boy logo printed on their leather jackets and tattooed on the backs of their necks makes that much clear. Nah, Slit and Nux are definitely just mates. They do, however, share a one bedroom flat, they can't quite deny that. And there is only one bed there. And okay, maybe they fuck in it. Quite often. But what's more manly than two dudes fucking, right? 

That is definitely what they tell themselves in the few moments when it gets quiet enough to think about things. Fortunately that's not often. Their work at the Immortan's place takes up a lot of time. They are still young, but Nux is on of the best mechanics there, and he barely gets to go home long enough to sleep. His sick days were all used up last year. All his sick days forever, actually, the Immortan had said, and okay, fair enough, that chemo had kept him off duty a good long while, so he wasn't complaining. He loved the work. The machines seemed to respond to him better than any of the others. Slit had briefly tried to get the car whisperer nickname to be a thing, but it hadn't caught on.

Slit didn't feel quite so strongly about that part of the job. He wasn't as good as Nux. Even he had to admit it. To be honest the workshop felt too tight, too crowded. It reminded him of the accident, made his cheeks hurt even now, even two years on. And so he was more involved in the other parts of the job, the bits that were, perhaps, a tiny bit less legal. Making deliveries to the Bullet Farmers or Gas Town Boys, keeping them all happy and good and on their side. He loves riding, anyway. Nothing like the sun on his face, the wind making it feel like flying.

“Hurry the fuck up, asshole!”

The shout is muffled over the pounding of water on Slit's freshly shaved skull. He leans his head against the cool tile, staring at the spots of discolouration until they become blurry. Yawns. The warm water is a good substitute for bed. But just as he thinks maybe he can stay there forever, half sleeping like this, he can feel the pipes smirking cruelly at him as the water starts to cool.

“Fuck,” he says.

He stands there, unmoving, face on wall, after turning off the water. Considers air drying, but it's not warm enough for it. Also Nux is yelling.

“I swear I'm gonna leave ya the next time you take so long, see how ya feel without a job,” Nux tells him when he wanders out into the living room, towel around his shoulders.

Slit knows Nux isn't serious for a couple of reasons. Firstly one of the higher ups, Ace, old guy in their gang, he's personally tasked Nux with getting Slit to show up. Otherwise both of them are out. And neither fancy the painful process of blacking out their neck brands. Or trying to find a job in this market, uneducated as they are. Convictions hardly help either. There's also the fact that Nux can't quite help staring Slit, that look that says he's seriously considering being a half hour late to work this morning. Slit does his best to smile seductively.

“No, no, get some fucking clothes on, we're already late,” Nux says, hand in front of his eyes.

Slit pouts, but obeys, feeling Nux's gaze linger on his ass as he roots around the cramped bedroom for something to wear. Darkish jeans sticky and stiff with engine grease, t-shirt that could've passed for white a couple years ago, now mostly stains and holes. That'll do.

“Coffee,” he demands of Nux.

“Ain't got any,” the motherfucker tells him and Slit resists the urge to punch the wall.

“Got some tea, though,” Nux offers, and Slit punches him instead, but light, as friendly as anything can be this goddamn time of day.

Nux tosses Slit's jacket at him, and they leave. The morning is still and cool yet, sun not quite present, spreading soft yellow and pink light through hazy clouds. Slit yawns again, rubs at his eyes. He follows Nux mindlessly, eyes focused on the logo on his jacket. The flaming skull steering wheel in bright red. He looks up a few inches to the twin image on Nux's neck, a faded a black against too pale skin.

The wind in his face is just a tiny bit icy as they roar out onto the road. Cold air whistles in through the tiny gaps in the scars on his cheeks. The day will heat up quick enough, but for the moment it's better than coffee for getting his mind working. By the time they get off their bikes Slit feels almost awake.

That doesn't last. He's doing some basic repairs on a car that came in, boring stuff, but time consuming. He wouldn't mind so much, mindless work's alright by him, but then motherfucking Morsov has to come and chat. Slit has never liked the guy. He's shit at everything he does, and Slit's got no clue how he's still there, how he hasn't been tossed out like the literal garbage he is. But he's here now, talking about some fucking game he went to, some bullshit he expects Slit to care about. It's infuriating. When Slit goes to get some watery coffee the machine is broken, and learns that it was – of course- Morsov who fucked it up, he is 98% sure he has died and gone to hell.

“Slit? You alright?”

Nux has come in, and is watching Slit with big worried eyes. Maybe the utter fury he feels towards the world is reflected on his face. It usually is. He'd wanted to get out today, do some actual driving, but the day was dead set on not cooperating. He glares at the broken machine like it had personally conspired to fuck his day up.

“'M good,” he forces out, deliberately unconvincing.

Nux rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Gonna go out get some coffee. Ace said a new place opened a few minutes away. Come?”

Slit nods.

“Yeah. Long as we sneak out so Morsov can't suddenly decide he wants to come along.”

“I do not get your problem with the guy,” Nux tells him and Slit fixes him a look of menacing incredulity.

It's a hard look to pull off, but Slit's perfected it. The wicked scars and glints of metal staples help. But Nux is immune and just shakes his head, smiling fondly. He pats Slit's head, fingers lingering just long enough to be caressing and not condescending.

“C'mon, let's get some fuel in ya. Seem even worse than usual today.”

The place, when they find it, seems cosy. It's smallish, only a couple tables visible through the windows. A shiny new sign above the door says The Green Place. The logo is some flower or other, five white petals. Slit hopes it's not one of those eco freak places that serve a five minute lecture with every order. 

They enter, and the place feels a bit hippie for their style, mismatched furniture and little potted plants hanging from the ceiling. But then Slit catches eye of the woman behind the counter and wow. New regular coffee shop for sure. She's got long red hair like fire and looks like a model. She's eyeing their jackets and scars and shaven heads sceptically. Sends a look to an unseen someone in the back room, so quick Slit almost misses it. He feels oddly disappointed in that. Usually he likes scaring people.

“Hi,” she says brightly, putting on a Professional Smile, “what I can I get you boys?”

Nux is standing there, looking a bit awestruck and Slit looks at him, theatrically disappointed, and walks up to the counter.

“I'll have a large coffee to go,” he tells her, grinning in a way he hopes is at least equal parts charming and terrifying, “black as motor oil an' sweet like you.”

She smiles like this definitely isn't the first time, and takes his money.

“What name?” she asks.

Slit looks at her for a moment.

“We're literally the only two customers. I'm sure we'll figure it out.”

“Humour me,” she says, black marker poised over the pale green styrofoam.

“Slit,” he says.

“Real creative parents you got there,” someone says.

A pale woman is standing in the doorway, stirring a bowl idly and looking them up and down. She seems amused and it feels like she's mocking him. He ignores her. Nux steps to the counter, orders his coffee too. It's the same as Slit's order, really, only he says black and two sugars, and the barista's smile seems a lot more genuine. Fucking Nux, always so sweet, always the nice one. 

The red head puts his cup down a moment later, and he sees that his name's not on it. There is however a smiley face, with three little lines going through the left side of the mouth. He snorts. 

“Funny.”

“Aww, c'mon Slit, it looks just like ya,” Nux teases.

“Does pride herself on her portraiture, she does,” the woman in the doorway comments.

The red head gives a half laugh, and finishes Nux's coffee, handing it to him all nice. He gets his name, spelled proper and all, and a smiley face. Not fucking fair. He thanks her nicely, and they head back. When Slit takes a sip of coffee he coughs. It's the most bitter fucking stuff he's tasted. He grimaces, and Nux raises his eyebrows, sipping from his no doubt perfect cup.

“Guess she took my order a bit too literal,” he grumbles.

Nux laughs. Slit finishes the cup though, because he's not about to go back, and there's still caffeine. Nux remains far too amused, but let's Slit have the last third of his own. That is some damn good coffee, Slit has to admit. Maybe they do have to go back sometime soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of angst, bit of fluff, a dragon.

It's late when they finally get back to their flat that night, tired and dirty. Nux collapses on the sofa, boots on the arm rest. He looks so tired. Slit tosses a couple frozen pizzas in the oven, grabs some cheap, tasteless beer out of the tiny fridge. He lifts Nux's long legs, settles, lets them fall down on his lap. Nux makes a sleepy sound. Slit hands him a bottle, and he nods, face too tired for expressions.

“'S today, isn't it?” Slit says more than asks.

“Yeah.”

It was. Two years earlier to the date, Nux had been told he had maybe two years left. That was before the chemo started working, though, before he got better. Still, they had both been superstitious about this day. It was like a bet against fate. If Nux was still fine the next morning then it was all over. At least that was how Slit liked to think of it. 

He's a bit scared, if he's being honest, of letting Nux sleep tonight. He's had these dreams, lately, where Nux doesn't wake up. It's ridiculous because Nux is mostly fine, has been mostly fine for months. He hasn't told Nux about these dreams, but sometimes in the night Slit wakes up, has to hold Nux against him hard, has to hear that there's still a heartbeat. Nux generally wakes up at that, reassures Slit that it's fine, he's fine, they're both fine. So Nux probably has a pretty good idea.

They don't really talk about it. When they're in bed, when it's dark and they are warm bodies pressed against each other it's fine. But in the light of day Slit's fears seem silly, and Nux for whatever reason, never brings it up. It's a bit like them. Like they're only really together when they're at home. Outside, at work, when they go out, they're just mates. Nux mumbled, late one night, that it's probably a bit unhealthy. Not the right way to deal with things. Slit had pretended to be asleep.

When the timer on the oven goes off they're both drowsing, and Nux's bottle falls from his hand, beer seeping into the carpet. It's already pretty disgusting, and neither of them has the energy to do anything about it. They sit munching pizza in silence for a while, but it's making Slit uneasy, and he turns on the TV. It's the middle of some cheesy fantasy film from the eighties and that works just fine. Slit doesn't like the quiet. Not tonight.

Nux shoves the greasy, crumb filled box onto the low table and leans closer to Slit. They're sitting next to each other now, and Slit shoves the last large slice into his mouth so he can hold Nux tight to him. Nux looks at him, laughs. Slit tries to ask what's wrong with a mouthful of pizza, but it doesn't come out as articulate as he intends. 

“You're leakin'” Nux tells him, and licks his cheek where apparently oily sauce is dripping through a tiny hole. 

Slit grunts in annoyance, but really, who's he to complain if Nux is licking his face. 

“You know I'm gonna be fine, right?” Nux says into Slit's neck.

“Course I know. Punch anyone tries to disagree,” Slit says, but his heart's not in it and Nux can probably tell, because he sighs.

“You can't punch cancer, Slit,” Nux tells him all serious, too serious. 

“The fuck I can. Your birthday's in July, I've punched you plenty.”

It takes half a second before Nux's tired brain gets it, and then he's laughing into Slit's shirt, sliding down into his lap. Slit smiles wide because he needs this. Needs Nux falling over from laughing today.

“You're a fuckin' idiot,” Nux says, but he's on Slit's lap and his bright eyes are looking into Slit's.

“Mhm. Your idiot,” Slit says, and god he's so fucking soft what's wrong with him. 

Nux wriggles until he's lying on his back, head in Slit's lap, alternating between nuzzling into his stomach and laughing at the awful film. Slit rubs at Nux's prickly skull, enjoying the soft little sounds Nux makes as they watch the incredibly unconvincing animatronic dragon spit fire at the evil knights. 

“Bet we'd be chrome knights,” Nux says. “But on bikes. Can you imagine like, jousting on harleys?”

Slit snorts in amusement.

“Yeah, but ya gotta tie something explosive to the end, shove it into the other guy's helmet. Watch his head blow up.”

Nux laughs.

“We'd be amazing knights,” he declares. “What'd the dragon be in this scenario?”

“Ya kidding? Dragon's a dragon, mate, they're cool as fuck.”

“Fuckin' nerd.”

“Fine. A mutated komodo dragon. Badass lizard exposed to radiation an' shit, grow half as big as Godzilla. Hulk lizard.”

“Nice.”

“But we'd tame it, right, make it do our bidding, take over the kingdom.”

“You've really thought this through, huh?”

Slit nods. Nux smiles, nuzzles into his stomach again, his nose rubbing against the complicated scarification patterns there. Slit strokes the fat scar on Nux's cheekbone with a finger as he watches the last battle, narrating for Nux, whose eyes have slipped close. 

“The cool bad guys are takin' a beating,” he says, “aand now the poor dragon's dead. That dick from before is makin' out with some chick with a crown, now.”

“The princess?”

“I don't fuckin' know. Probably? There're more crowns now, and everyone's smilin' like idiots.”

“Shame.”

“Mhm.”

Nux falls asleep during the end credits, and Slit is tempted to stay there, but the next program is starting and it's some awful talk show and he can't reach the remote from here and he doesn't love Nux that much, there are limits. He manoeuvres himself out from under Nux, turns of the TV, and stares at the mess for a while. He contemplates cleaning up but nah. Ain't got the energy. He lifts the sleeping Nux, groaning at the weight, and carries him all of seven feet to the bed, drops him down. Nux mumbles in his sleep. Slit pulls off his boots and jeans, nudging him till he's in his spot, close to the wall, tosses a blanket over him. 

The sliver of cold moonlight from the small window plays tricks on Slit because in this light Nux's head is a skull. He shakes his head, turns off the lights and undresses and slides into bed, close to Nux as he can get. Slit puts his head on Nux's chest. The raised lines of Nux's V8 scar dig into Slit's face, but he can hear heart beats, and that's a lot more important. He stays like that for hours before he falls asleep, making sure the soft thump is still there.

-

The next morning Slit has slept maybe an hour at most, and is even more useless than usual. Nux doesn't yell, though. Maybe he guesses why Slit is so tired. When he rubs the steam off the mirror in the bathroom, Slit can still see the imprint of engine parts on the side of his face. The staples there ache a bit, squeezed into the scar tissue just a bit wrong. 

“Gotta get goin' sleepin' ugly,” Nux says, opening the bathroom door and tossing some clothes at Slit.

As they ride to work, Slit's just blindly following Nux, and when they stop it takes him a minute to realise they're parked outside the coffee shop from yesterday. He looks at Nux, but he's already opening the door. Slit shrugs at no one in particular and follows him. 

“You're back,” the red head says, looking a bit surprised.

“We are,” Nux says, smiling all friendly, trying very hard not to look like the badass biker dude he is. “And my friend is sorry for being a sleezy dick.”

“Very sorry,” Slit mumbles, not quite meeting the woman's eyes. “Please give me coffee.”

She laughs, then, and he realises he actually is a bit sorry. Fuck. Nux is too damn nice and apparently it's contagious. 

His coffee is nice this time. Like really really nice. It still has the little smiley that looks like him instead of a name, but that's fine. They sit down at one of the tables to drink it this time. Their bikes don't come with cup holders. Slit suggests it as a modification, but Nux shoots it down as way not chrome enough. Slit suspects it's just because he has a little crush on the barista, and he doesn't blame him. She is worthy of crushing.

She helps the few other customers that come in while they sit there, but mostly it's empty, and she fiddles with the machines or whatever, keeping busy, but Slit can tell she's listening to them talk. He feels a bit pleased with that. He tries slipping some bragging about how cool they are into the conversation, all discreet, but Nux catches him at it, shuts him down. What a dick.

“You'd think,” he says, a tiny bit louder than necessary, “we should actually be gettin' to work, what with how much you were yelling about how late we are all mornin'.”

Nux glares at him, but gulps down the last of his coffee and stands and they walk out, Nux giving the barista a little wave goodbye. 

“They're kinda cute, yeah?” Slit hears someone say just as the door closes behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why on earth did i decide this was going to be in present tense what the fuck kinda decision's that.  
> Also hundred percent of this fic exists because someone at starbucks drew me a weird smiley and I thought that thing with a slit smiley face would be cute.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slit and Capable hang out. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about bikers & what they do comes from slightly biased news and binge watching biker hamlet the series and so it is probably wrong on every level.  
> Also yes, no, Capable's POV for a while now.

Capable looks over at Dag, horrified, because Slit looks back, briefly, after the door closes, like he heard. Dag shrugs, grins in that way she does, slightly unsettling if you're not used to it. She stirs her bowl of whatever she's making, something with honey, Capable thinks, from the smell.

“Don't really mind, do ya?” she asks. “Seems like you like them.”

“Whether I do or not I don't want them to know, do I,” Capable huffs.

“Bit counterproductive, no?”

Capable ignores this, and pours herself a large cup of coffee. Writes her name on it, out of habit. Drinks deep, throat burning a little bit. 

“Besides,” she adds, a minute or two late, too late for it to be in any way convincing, “I don't.”

Dag graciously doesn't comment, but sits down at a table. 

“What are you making?” Capable asks, leaning on the counter, coffee cup grasped by fingers now immune to the searing heat.

“Was gonna be croissants,” she says, pronouncing the pastry in a way that would probably be a capital offence in France. “But I've gone a bit off recipe.”

This does not surprise Capable. Dag's nothing if not creative. The Green Place is not known for its pastries. Well, technically it's not known at all, they've only been open about two weeks. But the point still stands. They haven't sold any of Dag's extra special pastries yet.

“I think,” Capable says, “that you're eventually supposed to do something other than stir it?”

“It needs attention while it grows, any life does,” Dag says, cradling the bowl protectively. 

“Projecting a bit much?”

Dag cocks her head, curious and challenging, and Capable backs down. Bit too far. She apologises, looks down into her coffee as if the dark liquid holds the mysteries of the universe. It fails to deliver on that front, but it tastes good and you have to appreciate the little things. Especially in a situation like theirs. Got to look at things brightly. Like the flat the four of them shared, above the café. It only had two bedrooms. Not a lot of space. But, bright side, Capable felt pretty safe knowing Toast was sleeping just on the other side of the room. Long line for the bathroom in the morning, but their shifts were spread out, and by the time the others who were on later needed to get ready the hot water was usually back. 

Capable had gotten better at looking at the bright side of things, because if you didn't, if you let the other stuff in, everything went dark. If you thought too hard about those months you spent locked away then you would break. And she was Capable. She would live up to her name and she would be bright and she would deal with things and she would be happy until her cheeks hurt from smiling.

The little bell over the door jingles as someone enters. Dag scurries to the back room, and Capable puts on her professional smile. Oh god it's another of those biker guys. Are there, she asks herself, no one else craving caffeine in this neighbourhood? She makes a mental note to ask Furiosa exactly why she chose this location. It's not like the narrow street gets a lot of traffic. It doesn't even seem to help that the closest Starbucks is half a mile away. The biker HQ must be close by.

“Hi, what can I get you?” she asks brightly.

“Large black coffee,” he says, giving her a handful of coins before she can tell him the price.

“What's your name?” she asks, marker in hand.

“Morsov,” he tells her and at least that sounds vaguely like an actual name unlike the other guys.

He has a goofy grin, but somehow it feels more unsettling than friendly. She hands him his coffee quick, and he gives her a cheerful goodbye as he walks out. She does not like this guy as much as the others. Whom she also does not, in any way, like, but it's a friendlier sort of not liking.

Dag scuttles back in as the guy leaves, settling down at the table again and demanding a cup of tea. Capable scans the tea shelf, picking a tin at random. They are all special blends, ordered from obscure corners of the internet or made by Dag herself, and they have names like “Void” and “Five am June clouds” and “Bicycle accident in 2002”. The one she picks is called “Tuesday Jam” and smells herby to Capable's untrained nose. No doubt Dag could give her a detailed list of ingredients. Capable has always remained quite convinced, despite the evidence to the contrary, that Dag is a witch. Dag herself does nothing to discourage this. 

At the end of their shift, when Toast and Cheedo are down, ready to take their places, Capable leaves. Goes out for a walk. She does this quite often, reminder to herself that she can walk where she likes, that it's fine, it's safe, it's allowed. Also because it's nice to be alone sometimes. She loves the others, she really does, but sometimes the constant hum and buzz of life gets to her and she can physically feel every sound like a punch to her senses. Walking helps. Not that the city's all that quiet, but it's a gentler hum, somehow. Or at least it is until a group of those goddamn bikers roar past. War Boys. Sounds awful. They've all got shaved heads, identical jackets and she doesn't know enough about motorbikes to tell them apart. She can't see whether Nux and Slit are among them. Probably that's for the best.

She isn't sure whether she can let herself like guys yet. Feels a bit guilty when she pictures that sweet guy, Nux, and his huge blue eyes. Or Slit, who, despite the rather grotesque scarring, is actually pretty handsome. But as she pictures their faces, badly because she actively avoided looking too close, there's a feeling like a tiny black hole in her stomach and she focuses on something else. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, jams her ear buds in a tiny bit too hard, walks in time to the slightly frantic folk punk. Better. Clear air clear head. 

 

A couple of days go by without any of the bikers coming in, and she wonders if they have found a new place. Perhaps they actually got cup holders and have defected to Starbucks. She finds herself hoping that's not the case. 

The Green Place is getting more customers, though, so that's good. Local teenage boys who giggle nervously at the girls and old ladies who drink Dag's teas and chat with her about botany. What appears to be a small artist collective down the street seem to want to become regulars. They talk as they sit there about supporting local businesses and draw little doodles on their napkins. When Capable clears them away she smiles a little, trying to figure out the squiggly lines left by bleeding biros. Mostly they remain mysterious. 

Capable is clearing such a note, deciding that this, definitely, is too abstract for her, when she sees a dark shape rapidly approaching. The bell rings, loud and piercing as the door is slammed open. Slit hurries in, closing the door behind him. He looks awful. His hands are filthy, covered in what she hopes is engine grease, and there red brown spatters on his dirty t-shirt. He seems to have lost his leather jacket, and his bike's nowhere in sight. He's clutching a duffel bag which clanks suspiciously when it moves. His eyes are wide, darting between here and, she assumes, some unseen pursuer.

“You gotta hide me,” he says, somewhere between and order and a plea and she does a double take because surely this kind of thing doesn't happen outside of movies.

“From wh-” she begins.

“Please,” he interrupts her, “I'll buy so much coffee I'll single handedly keep ya in business an' I'll never try to hit on ya unless you want me to an'-” 

He looks out the window. There's no one there, but Capable can hear a car approaching. She sighs.

“I'm going to regret this,” she tells Slit, and lets him hide in the back room. 

She has just walked back to her place by the counter when the bell is at it again, and two guys walk in. They flash badges at her too quick to process, but she makes them show her properly before she's answering any questions, thank you very much. Their faces are red and she can see the sweat stains on their shirts. It's gotta be from anger, though, because surely they came in the car she heard.

“We're looking for a guy. White male, about six feet, shaved head, biker looking type, big scar on his face. He would be carrying something, a large backpack or a bag of some sort.”

Capable frowns, stares into the middle distance for a moment.

“Can't say I've seen anyone like that around here lately. Sounds like a face I'd remember.”

“You sure? Don't have a colleague who might have seen something?”

“Not for a couple of hours. Was it earlier?”

“Ah, no. Well, here's a number,” one of them says, leaving a crumpled card, “please call if you should see anyone matching the description. He's dangerous.”

“What's he done that he's so dangerous, then? What should I watch out for?”

“At present we can't say more than that he's armed and dangerous.”

“I'll keep and eye out. Sure you don't want to try a donut?” she asks as they leave, and they narrow their eyes at her and slam the door harder than necessary. 

She slumps down to the floor and puts her head in her hands. This was a terrible idea. Like really really terrible. She lied to the fucking police jesus christ. Thank god she was alone now, because the others can never ever know. Oh man oh man oh man.

“They gone?” Slit whisper shouts from the back room. 

“Yeah,” she says, wanting to say something like why the fuck did you make me do that but nothing comes out. 

Slit comes out, sees her there and something passes over his face some emotion she can't quite define, and he walks over, sits down beside her behind the counter. She notices a dark fuzz is starting to cover his head. It suits him better, she thinks.

“'M sorry,” he tells her and she's not quite sure she believes him.

“I'm pretty sure lying to the police's face is frowned upon.”

“Nah, just tell 'em I had a gun to yer head or somethin'. Not that it'll come up. But ya know. If.”

“I'll remember that,” she says and stares blankly at the rows of tea tins. “What have you got in that bag, anyway, that the police want you so bad?”

“You don't wanna know,” Slit says, sounds a bit uncomfortable.

She turns, looks him straight in the eyes, trying to intimidate.

“I could turn you in,” she says, and while she's pretty sure she doesn't mean it she can tell he isn't.

He sighs, tugs the bag up on his lap and unzips it. Capable isn't sure what she expected, but guns wasn't it. It's just a- a fucking duffel bag full of guns oh god.

“Shit,” she says. 

“Yeah.”

“I should absolutely not know about this,” she says.

“Absolutely not. Told ya ya didn't wanna know,” Slit says with a sigh, and closes the bag.

“What if the police come back, what if they, I don't know, know? Aren't I legally obliged to tell them or something?”

Capable fidgets with the hem of her shirt, eyes darting between Slit, the bag, the floor.

“Again, just tell 'em I threatened ya.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Threatening me?”

“Nah. I think yer plenty scared on yer own right now,” he says, giving her what she thinks he intends to be a kind and reassuring smile.

She nods, and his face falls just a tiny bit, and she feels a little bit better knowing that he doesn't want her to be. 

“Well, you brought guns into my café and told me to lie to the police, you can hardly blame me.”

“I don't,” he says. “I know ya probably want me to fuck off, but can I stay a little while, make sure they ain't watchin' the street still?”

“Sure,” she says, lets out a shaky sigh. “Want a cup of coffee?”

He grins wide, nodding, and that smile actually is charming. Shit. She gets up, pours them both a cup, draws the little smiley on his. Looks briefly out the window, just in case. Sits back down and hands him the cup. He takes it, thanks her, fumbles for coins in his pockets, but she waves him off, says it's on the house. He looks at her, eyes narrow, and gets up and shoves a twenty in the tip jar.

“That a bribe?”

“It's a tip for real great and accomodatin' service,” he says. “Coffee's nice too.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“You'd believe that if Nux'd said it,” he says, and, is he actually pouting?

She laughs. He rolls his eyes.

“Always the fuckin' nice one,” he grumbles.

“Well, he's not brought guns into my café, that gets him at least two niceness points,” she tells him, half smiling.

She sips her coffee and for some unfathomable reason it makes her more nervous and shaky, not less. Caffeine's a filthy traitor, she thinks. 

“What a knight in shinin' armour,” Slit says, trying to sound all bitter and sarcastic and coming across as fond instead.

“You'd think he'd be a better influence on you, then.”

“Nah, fucker know's what's best for him.”

Slit keeps talking about him like that, but Capable gets a feeling it's all posturing, because little smiles keep tugging at the corners of Slit's mouth and his eyes are all soft. She makes herself stop speculating about exactly what's going on there, because it's irrelevant, because she's not interested either way, because she kinda doesn't dislike them both in the same way and no. No, ending that train of thought immediately.

“Better get goin',” Slit says after a while, “let ya get back to work.”

“Yes,” she says, “I'm terribly busy, as you can see.”

He snorts, amused, and throws his head back, gulping down the last of his coffee. She notices a tiny bit of it leaking through his cheek and wow that is equal parts kind of icky and kind of terrifying. She must be staring, because he looks at her, raises his eyebrows.

“Your, eh, your face. It's-”

“Ah shit,” he says, wipes it away. 

She tries not to notice how muscular his arms are. Stares down into her own cup, a few dark drops lingering at the bottom. Slit stands up, grabs his bag.

“Want me to check outside, see if there's anyone suspicious? Or, whatever, anyone anti suspicious, anyone looking like they're looking for someone suspicious?” she asks because she's come this far and she's 99% sure there's going to be bad consequences now, now matter what she does from here.

“Yeah, be great,” he says, “thanks.”

She walks out the shop, breathes in deep. Fresh air. Well, fresh-ish. Actually it's surprisingly non-fresh given how little traffic there is here. Whatever. She looks around, cradling her empty cup like she's just on a tiny little break, taking imaginary sips. She can't see anyone. No people leaning against street lamps, no one on a bench with a news paper with cut out eyes holes. Not even a car with people in, as far as she can see. She looks in, nods at Slit that it's clear.

“Thank you,” he says again when he comes out. “Know ya probably regret ever seein' me, but thank you.”

She nods at him, not sure what sort of a response the situation calls for. He gives her a final smile, scars crinkling, and jogs off down the street, hidden guns clanking loudly.

Fuck, she thinks. She returns to her spot behind the counter, puts down her mug and her head in her hands.

“I've made a huge mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capable is totally listening to Ghost Mice because everyone I write's got my music taste  
> If you would, for whatever reason, enjoy seeing some drawings of dubious quality of how I imagine Nux & Slit & Capable in this setting then [look no further my friend](http://indiasierrabravo.tumblr.com/post/125101436817/from-left-to-right-also-coincides-with-best-and)


	4. Oh Man I Forgot Chapter Titles Were A Thing Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain amount of consequences are had, and Toast & Ace show up. Though not as a unit.

When Slit gets near the garage, grandly dubbed The Citadel, he slows down, forces himself to walk at a normal pace. He's stopped by a charity shop, picked up a horrendous bright yellow hoodie proclaiming loyalty to some indie band, trying to look a little bit less like himself. Should've got a pair of skinny jeans too, finished the look. He pulls the hood up now, trying to keep the light away from his undeniably quite distinct face. Peeks around a corner and shitting shitting shit there's the police. 

He's supposed to stash the guns in the back room, by Ace's office, but that is clearly not happening. Not getting caught today. He walks back the way he came, trying, desperately, to think of a safe place to hide a giant fucking bag of guns. Storage is out of the question. He briefly considers The Green Place but he can't do that to the really nice lady who's name he forgot to ask. Also the police have already been there. He sighs. Heads home. Nux is going to be pretty mad.

“Slit,” Nux says when he comes home a few hours later, “Slit why is there a bag full of guns under the bed?”

“Well,” Slit begins.

“Are you fucking insane?” Nux asks, and his voice is so calm.

It scares Slit because this is how the big fights start, the bad ones. Nux walks up to Slit where he's sprawled on the couch. His eyes are cold and the scar over the tip of his nose is twitching.

“Look, the police were hangin' 'round the garage, watchin', I couldn't just sneak in.”

“An' so you thought oh, wait, I'll just fuckin' bring a giant fucking bag of guns into our home where we live where our official address is, huh?”

“They don't know my name...”

Nux sits down on the sofa, next to Slit. Puts his hands to Slit's face, tracing the lumpy scars.

“Slit. Slit how many bikers with scars like this do ya think there are in this neighbourhood? How difficult do ya think it'll be for them to find out? Fuck's sake, you're in their damn system already.” 

And fine, okay, maybe Nux has a point. Slit can't quite meet his eyes, stares at the scars on his lips instead, the thin line of his mouth. Nux grabs his jaw, forces his face up, stares into his eyes.

“Wearin' that shitty fuckin' hoodie ain't gonna fool anyone who's seen your ugly face, idiot. You're-”

Nux falters. Maybe he sees something in Slit's face, maybe he realises there wasn't anything much better to do. Whatever it is he sighs again, turns his back on Slit and leans back, draping his legs over Slit's. The leather of his jacket creaks. The back of his head is resting against Slit's shoulder. Slit presses a quick apologetic kiss to the top of Nux's head. The stubble of hair trying to grow back is prickly against his lips.

“I didn't know what to do,” he admits, helpless he's feeling creeping into his voice.

Nux is quiet, but it's not an aggressive quiet. Just a silent acknowledgement. Slit sneaks a hand under Nux's arm, rests it on his chest, and Nux doesn't push it away so that's good. Lets out a soft huff of breath.

“At least,” he says, “no one knows.”

Slit goes very still.

“Slit?”

“I might've had to hide at one point,” he says carefully.

Nux cranes his neck to look him in the eye. Says his name again, like a stern parent.

“And that hidin' might've taken place in that new coffee shop. With the help of that cute girl. Who lied to the police for me. And saw the guns.”

“What the fuck, Slit? What the hell made ya think that was a good idea?”

“I didn't, but they were after me, an' I was runnin' down that street an' I saw it was empty an'...” he trailed of, shrugging.

“Fuckin' idiot,” Nux says softly, knocking his forehead into the side of Slit's jaw in the weakest attempt at a headbutt in human history. “I'd leave in protest if ya weren't such a comfy pillow.”

“I have many skills.”

Nux snorts.

“Gunrunning clearly ain't one of 'em.”

“Like you would've done better.”

“That's why I fix cars, Slit. 'Cause I know what I'm good at.”

Slit sighs and he knows Nux is right. He envies him this slightly more useful skill sometimes. Being good in a fight, being a good shot, it can be useful, but he's supposed to avoid doing either as much as possible, so it feels fairly pointless. He's a decent mechanic, he supposes. Better than Morsov, but that's not saying a lot. But he hasn't got this intense thing, this calling or whatever that Nux has.

They lay there for a while, not talking, Slit's hand still on Nux's chest, feeling the soft heartbeat through the thin fabric of Nux's t-shirt. 

“Yellow really ain't your colour,” Nux tells him.

“The fuck? I look good in anythin',” he says, and, a moment later, “also in nothing.”

Nux laughs against Slit, and admits, at least, that the latter is true. 

“So, how'd the cute barista take to you hidin' guns in her café?” Nux asks, with a tone suggesting that he maybe is more curious than he wants Slit to realise. 

“Not thrilled,” Slit admits. “But I'm pretty sure she ain't turnin' me in, at least. Also she gave me coffee, so it can't be all bad.”

“What a nice first date,” Nux teases and Slit smacks his head.

“If anythin' I think she likes you better. What with not makin' her accomplice to serious crimes an' all.”

“She mention me?” Nux asks eagerly, then awkwardly shrugs against Slit's chest, as if to pretend he doesn't much care.

“Nah. I did, though. Don't know whether she thinks you're involved,” he says, frowning.

“Probably ain't that far from guessing. I mean,” Nux says, and touches the tattoo on his neck.

“Yeah. Sorry. Least she knows you're badass,” Slit says.

“Yeah, not sure that helps in this scenario. Anyway, why would I need a girl when I've got you,” he says.

Slit can't quite figure out whether that's meant to be an insult or a compliment. He chooses to take it as a compliment and leans his face on Nux's skull in what's more of a face plant than a kiss. Nux probably understands. He shakes Slit off, leans forward for long enough to struggle out of his jacket and toss it on the floor, then leans back into Slit's chest, all warm and nice. Slit hums happily because this is nice and apparently Nux is definitely not mad at him any more. Score.

“Still have to figure this shit out,” he says, after a few minutes appreciating how warm Nux is and how much he smells like engines and sweat and Nux.

Nux nods, a bit too vigorously, because he accidentally hits Slit's jaw.

“Best thing's to get it to the garage, yeah?”

“Sure, yeah,” Slit says, “but if the police is all over it, that ain't an option. Doubt Ace'll be stoked if we show up at his door with it either.”

“Can't ya just, you know, call an' ask what he wants ya to do?”

“An' admit I let the police see me?” Slit asks, a bit incredulous, and Nux sighs.

“D'you really think no one's gonna find out?”

“I guess they will. Was just hopin' to ignore it as long as possible.”

“I get that,” Nux says, nodding, “but still. Call Ace before it gets outta hand an' the Immortan hears of it, yeah?”

“Okay,” Slit mumbles into the top of Nux's head.

It goes… it goes okay. Slit gets yelled at, but that's probably fair. Probably he'll be doing grunt work for a few months. With Morsov. But he'll deal. They set up a meet, the next day. Slit sighs, tosses his phone onto the sofa. Nux is out hunting down take out, but Slit's exhausted. He hasn't done much the last couple of hours, but still. He stumbles into the dark bedroom, lets himself fall down on the bed.

Next thing he's aware of there's a strong smell curry, delicious, and Nux is next to him on the bed, also delicious. He rubs his eyes. He can't have napped more than twenty minutes he thinks, but he's groggy as hell. 

“Everythin' go well with Ace or did the failure get to ya?” Nux asks, reaching out a hand to vaguely pet Slit's head, angle awkward.

It still feels good, and Slit's eyes slip closed again, letting out a happy sound that was way too soft to ever be acceptable outside this room. 

“I'm takin' that as it went okay,” Nux says, withdrawing his hand, “now c'mon, sit up before the food gets cold.”

-

“This isn't just gonna go away, you know that? It's not all fine just cause I've got the stuff now?” Ace is saying and Slit is insulted because fuck, he's not a goddamn child.

But okay, sure, Ace helped raise him and Nux, and so maybe it's understandable that he can't quite quit doing that parenty thing. 

“I know, I know. Does- does the Immortan know I fucked up?” he says, fear and reverence in his voice.

Ace shrugs.

“Don't see that he needs to if everythin' goes smooth from here,” he says and there's that friendly old man smile and Slit is suddenly ten years old again and wants to give his, what is it, surrogate surrogate dad a hug.

He smiles in return, hope his gratitude comes across. He's pretty sure Ace knows him enough that it does. Ace gives him a nod, shoves the bag into the back seat of the beat up car he's come in, tosses a few bags of trash over, to cover it up. Artfully places an empty styrofoam cup on top like a cherry, and Slit laughs. Ace smiles at him, gets in the car and drives away. Slit sinks down to the ground, his back to the tree under which they'd agreed to meet. His bike is parked against the other side. He'd had to get up before dawn to have time to get it from where he'd stashed it the day before. Luckily the cops hadn't disturbed the place, hadn't gotten the plates or anything, at least he thought so. 

The tree he's under is on the side of a stretch of dusty road, surrounded on both sides with dry fields. It's the definition of desolate, and he can't get reception for the internet on his phone. Which is pretty fucking frustrating, because Ace said he had to wait an hour before driving back. Slit's not sure if there's a point to it, if that's a thing you have to do, or if Ace's just been watching too much TV. More probable than the two is that Ace thinks Slit needs time to think about the consequences of his actions or something. Slit knocks the back of his head against the bark of the tree, sighing. Old man's probably right. 

When Slit was eight and Nux seven, they'd been put in a foster family together. Their foster family was not great. The mother was distant at best, hospitalized at worst. Slit knew she did her best, but putting her in charge of children was, he later thought, wildly irresponsible. There was a young daughter, no more than a toddler, but she passed from causes Slit couldn't remember shortly after they arrived. The dad, though, he was okay. He was in the War Boys, and Slit and Nux, being young boys, thought that was pretty fucking cool. It was considerably less cool that he got himself killed while out on club business a year later. 

Ace, seeing that their living conditions were unlikely to improve, took them in. It got better then. They got to be kids a little bit more. But they were war pups, now, like all the kids of club members. Looking back, it was fairly irresponsible of Ace, choosing to raise them in an environment like that. But then, Slit wasn't sure any realistic alternative would be better. He thought they were probably treated all right. Helped around the garage with things. Thought they were the coolest and toughest little kids out there. Which, clearly, they were.

Slit shakes his head, he's not giving in to Ace's plans, he's not going to sit and reminisce about the past as he watches the sunrise. Technically it's not the sunrise so much as the sun finally rising above the heavy layer of clouds on the horizon, but it feels like the same thing. The clouds have made it chilly, and he's still wearing the dumb yellow hoodie instead of his jacket and the fabric is a lot thinner than he thought. It's gotten pretty windy, and the air cuts right through his clothes. He shifts so the tree's protecting him from the worst of it and pulls his phone out again. It's only been fifteen minutes. He's got one bar, enough for texting.

Slit: U up yet?  
Slit: Nuuux  
Slit: Nux come onn

Nux: ?

Slit: Stuck in field. Bored. Cold. Day shit.

Nux: At workk. Busy. 

Slit: :'((

Nux: Suck it up

Slit: :(((((  
Slit: Do u h8 me? :C  
Slit: Fuck u  
Slit: Nuuuxxx

Nux: Slit fuckoff

Slit: :'(

He looks at the time. Half hour left. He groans loudly, looks through his phone for some mind numbing game, but he's forgotten that Nux deleted them all a few weeks ago, claiming Slit had gotten addicted. Which had not been true. He'd just been getting very good. Reception's still way too shit for him to even think about downloading anything. Useless piece of shit technology, he thinks, and shoves the phone into his pocket again. He gets up, paces impatiently, checking his phone every two minutes. 

It's actually sort of nice out there. Soft colours and hazy trees in the distance. A photographer might remark that the light was really nice, but Slit doesn't notice. He looks at the receding lines of street lamps. Listen to the crows squawk about whatever crows discuss in the early morning. Complaining about the finer points of local politics, maybe. One of them keeps glancing at him suspiciously. He grimaces at it, makes a shooing noise. It doesn't react. 

Fifteen minutes left, now. There's a farm house or something, whatever houses they make that are in the middle of fields, a couple hundred metres away. He doubts very much that anyone's watching from there. He flips the house off, just in case. 

When the hour's finally up, and it feels like he's been there for a week, he roars out onto the road as fast as he possibly can. It's kind of freezing, and his hands quickly go numb, but the wind in his face still feels great. The crows get scared and flap away into the sky and when he feels satisfied at this he knows he's been there too long. The noise of the engine drowns out his thoughts and this, this is good.

He stops by the coffee shop on his way to the garage, wants to apologise to the cute girl. Also find out her name. When he walks in, though, she's not there. There's another woman behind the counter. She's shorter, nearly a foot shorter than Slit. Her hair is a poorly executed pixie cut and she seems very suspicious of him, even though he's not even got the jacket proclaiming his War Boy affiliation. Maybe it's his face. It often is.

“Can I help you?” she asks, and her smile is not friendly.

“Uhm, yeah. Is- I was looking for the other girl, uh, red hair? Works here a lot?”

“Why?” she demands, arms crossed.

“Wanted to talk to her.”

“Tough luck. Capable's not here right now.”

“Capable?”

“That's her name.”

“Oh. Uhm, well, could you tell her I'm sorry?”

“What for?” she asks, angrier now.

Clearly admitting his guilt was not getting her on his good side. It was understandable, really. He was the first to boast that he looked terrifying, and usually that helped him. Clearly that was not going to be the case here. Okay.

“She knows. It's- Uhm. Yeah.”

The woman rolls her eyes at him. He suspects this is not very good customer service. She's not getting a twenty in tips.

“Anything else?” she asks, and he can her her foot tapping impatiently.

“Large black coffee, with two sugars to go. Please.”

She huffs, offended, somehow, at the legitimacy of his purpose there, but takes his money and gives him his cup. She does not, he notes, ask for his name. Probably just as well. He gets a feeling that if it had been her he met yesterday he would be in jail now. But he tries not to hold that against her. He thanks her, and leaves, feeling her narrowed eyes follow him. He stops outside, leaning against the wall, gulping down his coffee as quick as he can. Pulls out his phone.

Slit: Capable.

Nux: ?

Slit: Cute barista. Name's Capable.

Nux texts back a thumbs up emoji, and Slit tosses the empty cup in the closest trash can and heads to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dedication to writing this is such that I waited an hour more than I had to to start playing episode four of Life is Strange and I hope my sacrifice was worth it and now it's three thirty am and too late. Also, this chapter is the first time I've misspelled Slit as Slut in the entire like 85 pages of fic I've written this summer and that is a miracle. To make up for that, presumably, I did it four times.  
> Also I don't know what it is about yellow hoodies but I absolutely love them and my greatest regret in life is that I look awful in yellow.


	5. The Mess Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are slightly fewer guns involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes to motivate myself to actually edit somewhat I read the chapter aloud to myself in a variety of really really bad accents.

“Capable?”

Capable looks up from her book. Toast is standing in the doorway to their shared bedroom. 

“A War Boy was here looking for you earlier. Wanna tell me what that's all about?”

“Which one?” Capable asks and Toast sighs.

“There's more than one? That you know?”

Capable shrugs awkwardly, avoids eye contact.

“Jesus Capable. Was a big guy, with a scar like someone tried to carve his face into a smiley.”

“Oh. What did he want?” Capable asks, trying very very hard not to let her voice give anything away.

“Said he was sorry. Said you would know,” Toast says, and comes into the room, sitting on the edge of Capable's bed. “Has anything happened? Did he hurt you?”

Capable shakes her head, makes herself meet Toast's eyes, steady.

“No, no he hasn't. There, uh, was a misunderstanding. It was nothing.”

Toast puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me know if you need me to kick his ass, okay?”

Capable laughs and says she will. Toast makes Capable confirm, once more, that he's not a danger, that he doesn't need to be banned from the café, before leaving. 

Slit was there. He was there to apologise to her. She's not quite sure how she feels about that. Frankly she's a little annoyed Toast didn't call her down but okay, okay fair enough, if some threatening looking guy she had never met before came looking for one of her sisters she would have probably done the same thing. They're all there for each other now, and none of them have an easy time trusting guys. Not any more. Toast is just a little more vocal about it than the others.

Capable hasn't told anyone what happened yesterday. She doesn't think she will, either. She knows they would said she should have turned Slit in. That she's absolutely insane and needs to go to the police and tell them what happened right this very moment. She knows because that's what she would tell them if they had been in a situation like this. But she can't quite convince herself that that's what she should do. It's just. They seem so nice, and the moment her mind conjures that argument she groans, annoyed. She should know better. They're clearly criminals, perhaps violent ones. No matter how nice they seem or how cute they might or might no be. 

She keeps bringing up reasons why they might have been lured into a life of crime, something that makes them not to blame. She comes up with a few half plausible ones, but makes herself stop. Thinks about what Toast would say. They don't need men. Although that's easier for her to say, because Capable has noticed the way she looks at Dag with shining eyes when she thinks no one's watching. But that's unfair of Capable, she knows that.

She picks up her phone from the bedside table, sends a text to Furiosa, asking what she knows about the local War Boy chapter. 

Furiosa had saved them all, in so many ways. It was she who owned the café, and the flat above, where the sisters lived now. Had started it so they would have work, would have safety and each other. Wouldn't have to think about before. And mostly, that works. The four of them get to run the café as they please. Can do what they want. And sure, economically, the Green Place isn't doing great, but they have time. And each others' help and support. Capable thinks they'll be all right.

Her phone beeps.

Furiosa: Keep away from them. 

Well. Had Capable been looking for a sign, then this would have been it. And okay, she decides. If they come in again she's just going to be Professional and Polite and not pay them more attention. She's not going to go to the police about Slit, but she's not going to get more involved either. Definitely not. 

-

“Hi,” Nux says with a bright smile as he walks into the café and Capable can't help but smile back.

Slit comes in behind him, greets her with a nod and a careful smile before he looks away. He seems reluctant to be back, half hiding behind Nux, almost. She is happy they seem to be okay, seem not to have been arrested or beaten up by their evil biker bosses or whatever. Capable's not sure how gangs like that operate. Either way, she has a hard time keeping the brightness out of her voice.

“Black sugary coffees for you both still?” she asks, and they nod.

They both can't help but look between her and each other while she fixes their coffees, quick glances filled with worrying and silent conversation. She wants to ignore them, she does, but she can't help it. As she sets their cups down she leans over the counter, motions them closer. Cheedo's in the back room and Capable really doesn't want her overhearing anything. Fortunately the radio's on, her and Cheedo being the only two who can sort of agree on music. It's some fairly chill sounding indie band, but the hum will cover low conversation. 

“Look, I'm not going to turn you guys in, alright? That's what all the-” she looks back and forth, exaggerated movements, “is about, yeah?”

Slit and Nux exchange quick glances and Capable cocks her head.

“Really,” she says.

“We just...” Nux starts, but trails off, frowns.

“You don't need to kill me to keep me quiet,” Capable reassures them, and almost smiles at the shock on their faces.

“We're not- Look-”

“We'd definitely probably not do that,” Slit says and Capable's eyes widen a tiny bit.

He smiles and she is mostly sure that was a joke. More sure when Nux elbows him and Slit rolls his eyes, but friendly. 

“Good. Glad we have that sorted out. Can I get you guys anything else?” she asks, because she sees Nux's eyes stray to the displayed pastries.

Dag finally made something the others deemed edible, and the flaky, powdery pastries actually look pretty delicious.

“Yeah,” Nux says, “Yeah, two of 'em?” he asks, looking to Slit for confirmation.

Slit nods, eyes lighting up like a five year old and Capable can't help but giggle a little. She grabs them some plates and a couple of apple horn cinnamon roll fusion pastries, as Dag has attempted to write on the little label, running out of space half way through. They take them, pay, and settle at the table closest to her. Given the cramped dimensions they're only about two metres away, but they subtly try to edge their chairs closer and that's kind of sweet. 

“My taste buds are a bit confused,” she hears Nux mumble through a mouthful of pastry, but Cheedo is demanding her attention from the back room via hand gestures.

She checks that there doesn't look like any other guests are coming, and hurries over. 

“What's up?”

Cheedo looks uncomfortable, twists her hands in the oversized pale green apron she's wearing, “The Green Place” scrawled on in yellow acrylic marker, probably by Dag.

“Toast said we weren't supposed let them stay,” she says carefully. “Any of the War Boy guys, I mean.”

Capable sighs, runs a hand through her hair. She knows why Toast is doing this but still.

“And when did she decide that?” she asks, trying to keep frustration out of her voice.

“Well, she only told me today, but...”

“Right. Well, okay, I'll go tell them to leave then,” she says, voice flat.

Cheedo seems relieved, gives her a smile, and Capable smiles back because come on, she's not heartless. Cheedo's the youngest of the four, and maybe a little bit naive. She is very very sweet, though, and Capable is still amazed she can be like that after all she went through. She will fight everyone who could threaten that.

She sighs a little, walks back into the café proper, over to their table. Slit and Nux both look up expectantly. Pastry flakes are stuck in the tiny scars along Nux's lips. She never really noticed them before, always seeing him next to Slit. By contrast they're almost invisible.

“So,” she begins. “I'm afraid I've been informed that it's our new policy not to let you, any of you War Boys, stay. And guys I'm really sorry, I think it might be my fault. Technically also a bit Slit's fault, but...” she trails off, looking as apologetic as she can.

Nux is glaring at Slit, who shrugs, hands up defensively.

“Hey, uhm, I didn't mean it like that,” she says, frowning. “It's just my sister, she's a bit… A bit suspicious of you guys...”

“Yeah,”Nux says, “an' we all know whose fault that is.”

He's crossed his arms, eyes still narrowed and glaring. Capable feels bad now, for Slit. She gives him an “I'm sorry” glance and he shrugs. He shoves the last half of his pastry in his mouth and picks up his cup, gets up. Nux grabs his cup too, and this close Capable fully appreciates just how tall they both are. Not that she's short, by any means, but still.

The guys wander out to finish their coffees, pointedly stood just outside the door. Capable figures this will probably keep other customers away, and decides that this would be an excellent time for a break. She follows them out, and the chill of the air is actually refreshing. She sees Cheedo looking out at her, eyes wide, but gives a nod which hopefully conveys that everything is fine and under control. 

“Hey, so, I really am very sorry. My sisters are just worried. They don't- we don't have the best track record with… Well, anyway. Yeah,” she says, frowning, unable to properly explain.

“Ain't our first time bein' tossed outta places,” Slit shrugs, and to be honest she has no trouble believing that.

“An' whose fault's that been every time?” Nux asks, but he's grinning now, so that seems to be okay.

“Hey, you started at least one of those fights,” Slit accuses, waving his coffee at Nux.

Capable smiles despite herself. This staying completely out of it thing is really not working, she thinks. Because shit, she is really starting to like these guys. Both of them. More or less equally and that is. That is just weird. That's not happened to her before. Her face must be showing her inner confusion, because they're both looking curiously at her now. She waves them off, says it's nothing. She tells them to enjoy the rest of their coffee, but that she's got to get back to work.

When she's behind the counter again, safe from accidental feelings, she watches them. Pretends she's busy when they glance in which happens once or twice. She wonders whether they're talking about her. Probably not. Probably about the whole gun thing, she thinks. She hopes it went well. For them. Whatever that means in terms of actual consequences. 

From this distances she notices their body language more. Lots of tiny little touches, which strikes her as odd, because most guys she sees frantically shout no homo at the smallest of accidental brushes of hands. Maybe they're just really good mates. Or maybe they're… And wow okay, that. That is a surprisingly good thought. With some nice accompanying mental images, but she tries to suppress them. Can think about that later, because now they're waving at her and getting on their bikes and she waves back and shit this was not the plan. Maybe Toast is right about this all being an absolutely terrible idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is Capable's chapter, but I just want to say that I worry that Slit's not enough of an asshole in this fic. And I don't know if that's because I'm, I don't know, taking his character development from my other snuxable fic for granted as past here or whatever. I just. I kind of don't really want to write them as the misogynist dicks they probably would be in this environment? But I kind of also want them to be in character. But I also want everything to be sweet and fluffy. Shit man, characterization's hard. Same goes for Nux because I keep worrying I'm making him too soft, too sweet, and there's all this tumblr meta going round and I can't help but feeling like I am part of the problem, and I'm sorry. (But I just want to write fluff- Shit don't mind me I'm just over thinking.  
> Feel like I'm losing momentum on this fic a little bit, hence the shorter chapter. Or maybe I just need to switch back to the angry lizard.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of plot again.

It's a few days before Slit starts to really feel the consequences. The police got involved, and even though they can't prove shit, they're still sneaking around. And look. It's not as if it was his fucking fault that some had followed that Bullet Farmer to the meet up, right? That's on him, not Slit. But somehow, everyone seems to think he should've known. He's been assigned to the shit they did as pups now. Sweeping the fucking floors, fetching shit for the mechanics, and it's really pissing him off. 

He's standing, fuming, in the break room when there's suddenly a hand on his shoulder, and he whips around, snarling. 

“Good day?” Nux asks, but he looks all sympathetic and slightly pitying.

“What d'ya think,” Slit growls, shaking the hand off.

“I know. I'm headin' home. Comin'?” 

Slit's scars twitch.

“Can't. Have to stay till everyone's gone, make sure everythin's clean an' shine for the morning,” he says, putting as much malice as he can into every syllable. 

Nux grabs the side of Slit's head, knocking their foreheads together gently. Makes sure they're alone, kisses Slit soft and sweet. It feels oddly thrilling, showing any affection here. Not that there's any specific rule against the War Boys getting together, it's just assumed that they wouldn't want to. And it's not like Slit and Nux are hiding, not actively, anyway. That doesn't stop the soft press of Nux's lips against his from making Slit feel like a guilty teenager. He grabs Nux's face, thumbs gliding over the scars on his cheekbones, looking into those big blue eyes. There's specks of grease and dirt on his face, but somehow that just makes him look better. More real.

“Gonna have dinner on the table for me when I get home?” Slit asks.

“Always. Proud to be your fifties house wife,” Nux answers, grinning. 

“Better get goin' then,” Slit tells him, smirking, effect ruined by Nux pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Nux walks out, and a few minutes later Slit hears the roar of his bike starting up. Slit's still not exactly looking forward to what's probably at least an hour more of mindless work, but Nux does know how to make him feel better. He walks around, assessing the amount of shit he's got to do and god fucking damn Morsov to fucking hell, because the car he's been working on, the area around, is a complete fucking disaster. Looks like he just threw everything in the air, just for fucking fun. What a complete and utter fucking asshole. This is going to take for-fucking-ever.

He looks over the mess for a couple of moments before deciding he needs more fuel for this. Grabs his jacket, turns out the lights and leaves. It's chilly out, now, nearly cold, and there's not a single person out in the streets. He wishes Nux hadn't made him give up smoking. Walks the couple blocks to the Green Place, hopes it's still open. There's a warm light in the window, and he can't see a closed sign, so that seems good. He hopes it's Capable working. She's been there the last couple of days. He and Nux have stopped there nearly every day, chatted more with her. They both still like her.

It should be weird, he thinks. It should be really weird. Because he and Nux, they've been together forever, since they were teenagers and figured out sex and kissing and things. Figured out that they were so close in so many ways. And sure, individually they've had crushes on other people, but that's always been secondary. And the people they've talked into having threesomes have been enthusiastic and that has been great, like really seriously great, but it hasn't really been… There were never that many feelings involved. But they both undeniably have feelings for Capable. And it seems like she likes them. Like like likes both of them, he thinks and winces at his phrasing. He's getting too fucking soft. 

The bell rings as he pushes the door open. It's not Capable behind the counter, but at least it's not the angry one either. It's the tall, pale and ethereal one. She greets him with a smile straddling the line between polite and disconcerting. She's wearing slightly too many shawls and a necklace with what looks like the skull of a small rodent. He wonders how sanitary that is. 

“Hiya, War Boy,” she says. “Come to court our Capable again?”

Slit narrows his eyes a tiny bit because she's not supposed to notice that. She smiles a knowing smile and leans on the counter. Her jewellery clinks.

“Nah,” he tells her, “here for the coffee.”

She raises her eyebrows like that's surprising, then sighs.

“Right. What can I get ya, smiley face?”

“That yer customer service policy, makin' fun of traumatic injuries?” he asks, crossing his arms, trying and probably failing to look like he's somebody who'd actually complain.

“War Boy special, that. Anything for you guys.”

He can't quite help a half smile, and she looks pleased with herself.

“'Preciate it. Can ya get me the largest and strongest black coffee you got, with enough sugar not to taste like it is?”

“As I said, anything,” she tells him, and busies herself getting it ready.

She spends a lot longer than you would think necessary putting his name on the cup. When she hands it to him it's- Well it's not his name, that's for sure. It's a really detailed life like drawing of a lizard. He can't tell what sort of species it is, hopes it's one of the badass ones.

“Wow,” he says. “That's real good.”

The woman inclines her head in acknowledgement or thanks, beads jangling. He notices the rodent skull has got a tiny cartoon simple crown carved on its forehead.

“It's your spirit animal,” she tells him.

“Eh?”

“Saw it in your aura,” she explains, as if that makes any more sense.

He figures it's best not to question it. It looks a lot cooler than the usual smiley, either way. The woman's looking expectantly at him and he's not quite sure what she wants him to say. 

“Well?” she says impatiently. “What are ya gonna ask me to tell her?”

“Huh?”

“Want me to say something to Capable, yeah?”

He shrugs, feels cornered.

“Woulda thought that was against yer new rules too,” he says.

“Ah darling Toast bans you, yeah? Nah, it'll be fine, I'll convince her it'll be fine,” she tells him, winking, and okay, clearly they're not sisters in the way he assumed.

Which, when he considers it, explains why none of them look anything alike. Good to know.

“I don't know, just tell her Nux says hi or somethin'.”

The woman tsks, not impressed. But Slit's defensive now, he's not in the mood to think up a goddamn sonnet, so he tells her goodbye and walks out. When he's across the street he looks back and catches a glimpse of red curls. Capable listening in the back room. He feels his face heat up, and walks quickly back to the garage, drinking his coffee too quick and burning his throat.

When he gets near he can see a light shining out, and that's weird because he's pretty sure he turned them all off. And locked up. Maybe someone's come back to work more, but he doubts it. There's nothing that pressing. Okay. Plan. Plan for not fucking up as much as last time. He goes round the back, unlocks the door there, quiet as he can. He's lucky and the hinges stay silent. Keeps the light off, puts his coffee down. Listens. There's a sound like someone messing about with something mechanical, something heavy. There's metal clanking. He gets his phone out, makes sure it's on silent and texts Nux, just in case. 

He moves as silent as he can, listening all the while, trying to hear where the sound's coming from. Wonders if he should've checked for vehicles outside. Though probably anyone breaking in would have had the sense to park a ways off. He's getting closer, sees the light shine through from the office. And fuck shit fuck he steps down just wrong, the leather of his boot creaking loudly, and the noises stop. Shit fuck shit balls fuck he backs up, stays very still. The light in the office goes out, and it's pitch black. He hears steps, backs up. Hears a loud thump as something heavy hits the wall. Fuck. Whoever's here clearly doesn't want company. He's got to get o- Thump. 

-

One moment Slit is shirtless, hanging on to the back of a car, throwing explosives at a huge modded truck thing, and the next everything is moving, shaking. Someone is shaking him and his head hurts like a fucking-

“Slit! Slit, you okay?”

Familiar voice. Everything is pain. He doesn't deserve this, what has he ever done to deserve this?

“Slit wake the fuck up or I'm-”

“Gruh,” Slit says to appease the voice. 

The lights are far too bright, he thinks, and doesn't dare open his eyes. Arm doesn't hurt, so he moves to shield his face, but he's half conscious and uncoordinated and half slaps himself in the face instead and realises that half his head is a bruise. The familiar voice laughs, and Slit realises it's Nux. 

“Whah?” he asks.

“Hey, hey you're alright, you're good,” Nux says, and there's a hand on Slit's face. 

Slit blinks, carefully. Squints at the brightness till Nux's face above him swims into focus. Usually it's a very nice face to wake up to, he thinks, but his head really fucking hurts. He tries to communicate as much to Nux, who gets up, turns out the closest light so everything's nice and dim. Helps Slit sit up. Careful hand on the back of his head.

“Wha happened?” Slit asks, leaning heavily on Nux.

“Was kinda waitin' to ask you that. Got your text, waited, tried calling ya, but you didn't pick up. Thought I'd come see if somethin' went wrong.”

Slit closes his eyes, takes in this information. Frowns in concentration.

“Think someone hit me,” he manages.

“Couldn't have guessed,” Nux says, earning a hard shove.

“Hey, come on. There's no one here now, anyway. Locks are good. C'mon, let's get you home. Deal with this tomorrow.”

-

Nux thinks Slit has a concussion, and won't let him drive home. Insists he ride on the back of Nux's bike instead. There's not really enough room, but Nux drives slowly and they make it fine. Slit wraps thick arms around Nux's waist and rest his head on his shoulder. Nux made him take a bunch of painkillers before they left the garage and he feels a bit woozy. Still, they make it back to their flat without him falling either off or asleep. He leans heavily on Nux as they make their way up far too many stairs. Let's himself be shoved down onto the bed, and doesn't move until Nux places an ice pack on his head and hands him a bottle of water.

“Ya feelin' any better?”

Slit groans loudly, and winces because even that hurts. 

“Gotta take better care of yourself Slit,” Nux says and Slit is only half sure he's joking. 

He lets Nux pull his boots and jacket off, but when Nux tries to move he pulls him down. Makes him sit, back to the wall, and rests his head in his lap. Nux looks for a minute like he wants to protest, but gives up, smiles all sweet. Holds the ice pack to Slit's head. 

“'F ya move 'm gonna beat ya up,” Slit murmurs into the coarse fabric of Nux's jeans.

“Stayin' here, promise,” Nux says, and it's only moments before Slit's world goes dark with sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll fic the Toast/Dag thing that's going on in the background of my other fics. I've got a a great pun saved up and all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's both plot and fluff and smut what is the world coming to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, to myself: This'll probably be a shorter chapter.  
> 3 hours later. Longest chapter yet. Have yet to put on something's that's not pajamas. Good life choices.

Again Slit's brain is filled with visions of violence. Flaming explosions and wasted away bodies flung to the hard ground, limbs sprawled at wrong angles. Vicious sun beating down upon them. Harsh winds tearing skin, sand cutting into everything, thousands of tiny knives. The taste of petrol lingers in his mouth as he wakes up.

There are bright blue eyes staring into his, half closed and soft in the cold light of dawn. Nux looks tired and Slit worries he's been awake, looking after him. He tries to communicate this but the muscles of his face won't cooperate. Not sure he could. 

“Doin' any better?” Nux asks, voice gentle.

Slit closes his eyes, assessing. Pain is creeping into the side of his head where someone, something hit. It's dull and pounding and he groans. 

“Not,” he manages, “great.”

He sees the nearly full water bottle lying half stuck under a pillow. Twists off the cap and drinks, ignoring the droplets that spill through his face and into the sheets. Holds the bottle to his forehead, but it's too warm to help. The bed creaks and moves. Slit closes his eyes, hoping to slip back into sweet, painless and oddly violent sleep, but he feels too alert. Bed creaks again and something cold and hard is pressing into his head. 

“Thought this might help. 'S all we got.”

Slit takes the frozen solid bottle of cola from Nux, presses it to his skin gratefully. Wonders briefly why they would feel the need to freeze soda. Probably something that made sense at the time. Bed moves again and Nux is laying on his stomach, head on crossed arms, looking at him. There's something in Nux's eyes, past the sympathy, and Slit can't tell quite what it is.

“You're beautiful,” Nux almost whispers.

And that's odd because usually Nux calls him ugly, even in here, and this, whatever feeling this represents, makes it feel like everything's about to crumble. Nux reaches a hand out, strokes soft fingers along the sharp corners of Slit's jaw. Light touches that Slit sees more than feels over scarred cheeks. Muted click of nails on metal. A thumb stroking his lower lip. His mouth opens, breath hot, licks at the digit. Nux half laughs, scoots closer, till his face is just inches from Slit. Keeps looking at him like he's something worth looking at not with fear or pity or distaste.

The ugly thing was a joke, at first. To put Slit at ease, sort of, after the accident, after he couldn't go anywhere without people staring. Because no one would say it to his face, so Nux did. Never meant it, Slit didn't think. But it helped, somehow, sort of. Made it easy to embrace how terrifying and badass he looked when his face healed enough that he could bear looking at himself in the mirror. He'd grown to like how he looked now. The way Nux sometimes looked at him helped. Like he was now.

“You're a shit liar,” he growls but it's way too late.

Moisture drips from the thawing cola bottle, running down his face in cold, thin rivers. Nux brushes them away.

“Long till we gotta leave?” Slit asks.

“Got an hour at least, I think. Could probably convince 'em to let ya have a sick day.”

“An' show 'em I'm soft an' useless? Nah. Just need couple more of them painkillers, I'll be good. Fucked up enough as is yesterday.”

“Ain't your fault someone breaks in is it?” Nux asks with a frown.

“Nah. But if I was there all the time, hadn't fucked off to refuel on caffeine I would've seen 'em, could've stopped 'em.”

That appears to be a fair point because Nux doesn't argue. Just sighs. 

“Didn't see or hear anythin' useful?”

“Nah. Whoever was there wasn't expecting to get caught. Messing about makin' noise. Was in the office. Not sure 'bout anythin' more.”

“Guess it's somethin',” Nux says quietly. 

Slit wants to pull him closer, knock their foreheads together but he feels like that would be a spectacularly bad idea. Instead he puts his hand over Nux's where it rests between them. Nux's fingers are pretty much permanently stained, always some engine grease he can't quite get out, nails blackened and broken. 

“It'll be fine,” Slit says with conviction he doesn't feel.

He's not sure yet just how badly he's fucked up, but he hopes it won't land on Nux. Won't get him in trouble, because Slit's not sure he could deal with that. Nux has always had his back, ever since they were little. Slit was the one getting in trouble more often than not, Nux the one to figure a way out of it. Sometimes take the blame, and Slit had let him. He wasn't proud of that. And when Nux had needed him, needed his help Slit could do fuck all. Only watch him get sicker. Were times when Slit hadn't been able to make himself see Nux at all, hiding from his friend. He needed the rest of his life to make up for that. 

He opens his mouth to apologise, but sees Nux's eyes have slid closed. He's breathing soft and even and Slit suspects he might not have slept enough earlier. He wiggles around, trying not to disturb Nux, till he's lying further up the bed, Nux's head tucked under his chin. Drapes his arm over Nux's waist, keeping him close. pulls at the sheets till they cover both of them. Nux's stubbly head is prickly against Slit's skin, his breath hot against his throat. He makes soft sleepy noises, and Slit wants to stay like this forever.

-

“Locks weren't broken, nothin's gone, you sure someone was here?” Ace asks, leaning against the door frame, old timey driving goggles dangling round his neck like some kinda steam punk nerd.

“This look like nothin'?” Slit says, indicating the deep bruised blue on the side of his head.

“Coulda fallen off yer bike. Been to embarrassed to say?”

“Didn't fall off my fucking bike, Ace. Some piece of shit must've gotten a key somehow. Don't know what they were after but shit, they hit hard. And,” he continues, indicating a mark on the wall, circa head height, “that look imaginary?”

Ace concedes that that does not look like a coincidence. 

“What ya think they were after, then?”

“I don't fuckin' know, do I?” Slit says, frustrated, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. “Was out for a while. Must've had time to cover their tracks. Nothin' outta order in the office at all?”

“Not that I can tell. Look,” he says, coming closer, lowering his voice. “I gotta take this to Joe. Gonna play down yer role, but… Ya know. Be prepared.”

“How the fuck's this my fault,” Slit says, but he knows, and Ace knows.

He claps Slit on the shoulder, disappears into the office again. Slit sighs, rubs his forehead. Fishes more painkillers out of his pocket. Takes a deep breath before going back to work. Stops by the back room and sees his coffee from last night. Takes a hopeful sip but it's cold and disgusting. Someone's drawn a crude dick next to the lizard. Gotta be Morsov. On some level Slit realises he can't blame everything on the guy, but he doesn't care. That's what you get for being such an annoying dick.

He wanders over to where Nux is working on some car, sits down on the floor. Puts a the right tool into Nux's hand when he fumbles blindly behind him, fingers lingering a touch too long.

“What'd he say?” Nux says a few moments later, looking up at Slit.

There's a smudge of grease over his nose, just under the scar there. Makes his nose look skull like. Almost too deliberate to be an accident. Slit wants to wipe it away. Nux's scars make him look enough like a death head already. Chrome as it is, Slit doesn't want the reminder. 

“That he couldn't tell if anythin' was taken. That he had to go to the Immortan with it.”

“Shiiit.”

“Yeah.”

“Hand me that wrench?”

Slit hands him that wrench, watches him work. No one comes to yell at him, so he sits there, half helping Nux as long as he can. Doesn't feel an urge to be particularly useful today. Doesn't give a shit how anyone other than Nux is doing. Doesn't care that he's being careless. His head hurts, and eventually Nux takes the painkillers away from him, says he has to stop taking them if they don't help. Which Slit supposes is fair advice, really, but he's not keen to give them up either. 

-

It takes days before Slit's head stops aching. He keeps doing the boring shitty grunt work, and Ace refuses to tell him what's going on. Slit's not clear on whether the Immortan's been told, whether he's out or going to be punished more. Nux keeps telling him everything will probably be fine, but Slit can tell he's not completely convinced. They don't see any immediate consequences of that break in, whatever it was about. No sudden attacks on the club, no deals crumbling or alliances breaking up. Not that they know about, anyway. Maybe things are going on between the higher ups but it's nothing they notice. What it is is fucking unnerving. Slit's future feels trembly and he's not sure how to deal with that. Nux tries to help, but doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite know what he can do.

On their day off they go for a drive. Just the two of them and their bikes, heading out into the wilderness. Or outside the city limits. Same thing, Slit says. 

It's windy and chilly where they drive and that suits Slit. Enough sensations that they distract from his head. There's little traffic, and they drive as fast as they can, far over legal limits and it feels glorious. They stop somewhere about an hours drive out. Neither of them knows where they are. They park their bikes off a small road. There's nothing in sight but brown fields and naked trees. A few crows flutter around the latter, cawing animatedly like town criers. Field criers. Whatever the bird equivalent.

Slit and Nux toss their jackets on the ground, sit down. Nux has got a cooler with beer, gets two out. There's only a couple for each, they're not that reckless. They sit next to each other drinking in silence for a while. Slit puts a thick arm round Nux's shoulder, holds him close. For warmth. Definitely for warmth. Skinny idiot can't keep himself warm on his own.

“Ever think about what we'd do outside the club?” Slit asks after a while.

Nux doesn't answer right away, looks out over the fields. Follows the flight of a crow with his eyes, takes a sip of beer. Slit watches the moisture that lingers in the hollow scars of his lips.

“Not much. They ain't throwin' ya out, though,” Nux reassures him, but he's not meeting Slit's eyes.

“Maybe not. Still. Can't help thinkin' they might.”

“Ace wouldn't let that happen.”

“Old man's great, but he ain't got that much power. Not when the Immortan's gettin' involved.”

Nux is silent for a little while, finishes the last of his beer and tosses the bottle on the ground a bit hard. It clinks against pebbles but doesn't break.

“I won't let them,” he says quietly, turning to look at Slit.

He looks fierce and Slit lets himself believe it. Sets his beer down and grabs Nux's face, smashing their mouths together inelegantly. Makes a sound deep in his throat when Nux bites down hard on his lower lip. Breaks away to plant hungry kisses down Nux's jaw, down to his throat, over the two faded scars there. Licks at the faded home made smiley faces he tattooed there himself when they were just teenagers. Nux makes a high, needy sound that Slit feels as much as hears.

Nux pushes Slit to the ground, leaning over him, holding Slit's arms over his head and leaning down. Grins wide, scars stretching. Slit's hips twitch upwards all on their own and Nux laughs, leans down and licks at the skin of Slit's throat, the bites down hard. The small twinge of pain goes straight to Slit's dick because apparently that's the kind of person he is. He groans, leans into it as Nux licks over the red marks. 

“Sure this is- ah! Sure this is is the place for this?” He asks, panting, because Nux's free hand is fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

“No one else here,” Nux says “I think we'll be fine. You, uh. You got?”

And he releases Slit's arms. Slit fumbles through pockets till he finds what he's looking for. A small tube of lube and a string of condom packets. He hasn't worn these cargo pants in years, but they were the only clean thing he could find and he thanks his eighteen year old self for always being prepared. Nux presses an appreciative kiss to Slit's forehead, then pins his arms again. Fumbles to open Slit's pants one handed. It should be awkward, but mostly it's oddly endearing. Slit lifts his hips to help Nux. He makes a complete mess of pouring lube onto his fingers one handed, looks mock insulted when Slit laughs at him. And okay, Slit's laugh stops dead when a cold, slick finger presses into him. He makes a needy sound, presses himself against it. Moans when another joins it.

“Nux!” he barks, “come the fuck on.”

Nux smiles, slips his fingers out of Slit, takes his time fumbling to get his jeans off. Slit thrusts against nothing, cock still cruelly untouched. He whines. Strains half heartedly against Nux's grip on his wrists. He's stronger than Nux by far, could break free, but Nux being in power it. It does things to him. And Nux looks at him, pauses, zip of his jeans half way down, leans down and kisses the head of Slit's cock and oh. Oh that is not fair and Slit growls because the fucker's taking his sweet time with this. 

“Shh, be patient,” Nux tells him, voice infuriatingly calm.

And finally, finally he shoves his jeans down. Languidly slicks up his cock, moaning and biting his lip all the while and Slit snarls. 

“Nux,” he pleads and oh, oh, finally.

The head of Nux's cock is hot and slick against him, and he focuses on letting his muscles relax and as Nux slowly enters him. Feels full and warm and intense and he thrusts his hips against Nux, wincing because okay, that was a bit too fast, but he can't fucking wait and finally Nux is showing mercy, because he pulls almost all the way out, thrusts back in hard. Sets a rapid rhythm, and Slit's making all kinds of noises he'd never admit to. Nux's grip on his wrists is loosening and he takes advantage, gets loose, uses one hand to dig sharp marks into Nux's ass as he grabs it, the other to pull Nux into an uncoordinated teeth clacking kiss.

Nux's hand moves to Slit's cock, and Slit thrusts into his fist and against Nux's cock, and it's a quick and uneven rhythm because they're both getting close. Nux comes first, hips stuttering, moans something that could have been Slit's name. His hand closes hard on Slit's cock and Slit thrusts up, twice, three times. Throws his head back, back arching up, breathing hard. 

Nux half collapses over him after, softening dick still inside him. They stay like that for a few moments, panting, satisfied. Slit kisses Nux, all sweet and soft. 

It's not exactly warm out, so eventually they have to clean up and pull their pants back up. Slit finds a rag in another pocket, ineffectually wipes at the cum seeping into his hoodie. Nux laughs, a little breathless. 

“Look awful,” he tells Slit.

Slit moves so he's lying half on top of Nux, deliberately wipes the rag on Nux's jeans, grinning down into his face.

“That's disgusting,” Nux says with absolutely no conviction.

“So are you,” Slit says, and kisses him. “Absolutely fuckin' filthy. Can't see why I put up with ya.”

“I'm terrible,” Nux agrees, smiles almost sweet.

Slit wants to stay like this forever, but they're sweaty and cold, and the last beer isn't going to drink itself. So they sit cuddled together, sharing the bottle, jacket thrown over their shoulders. It's cloudy, but very bright. A cold sort of light. Slit's head is on Nux's shoulder, his arm tight around him, fingers curling in the thick fabric of Nux's sweater. He thinks he can probably do anything as long as Nux is there. But he doesn't tell him. Just squeezes him a bit tighter, trusts that he knows. They stay there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't drink and drive kids. Do fuck in random fields and drive. Safer and perhaps even more fun.  
> Also as I keep saying. Nux is definitely the dominant one. Like not necessarily in bed, not all the time but. You know.


	8. Cool & Healthy Ways to Deal with Problems

It's four am and Capable is sitting on the battered second or third hand sofa in the living room. She's cradling a mug of hot tea -Void, which tastes suspiciously like earl grey- and staring straight ahead. She's got a blanket wrapped around her, for comfort more than warmth. The steam rises from the cup, curling in the air. Toast woke up screaming again. Woke Capable up too. The others slept through it, their room on the other side of the flat. That was hours ago. Capable helped Toast calm down, and she's asleep now, but Capable's wide awake.

The nightmares are bad for all of them, but they are less frequent than they were. Capable hasn't had one in more than a week now. That doesn't mean she's immune to the memories, though. The dark, cramped rooms. His hands touching her, touching them all. She tries to focus on the soft comfort of the blanket, the slightly bitter smell of the tea. Forces her eyes to take in all the delicate swirling patterns in the old ugly wallpaper. Tries to see figures in them, like watching clouds. Maybe if she can fill up her brain with all this meaninglessness then it will make the other things go away.

She tried to read, but her focus kept slipping. Images creeping into her brain and she couldn't make them go away, couldn't keep them out. So now she's here and maybe she should go wake the others up but she's not good at asking for help. Always willing to help her sisters. And it's not even that she doesn't want to bother them, not really. Because she knows they would want to. Knows they would absolutely tell her to wake them up quicker next time, that they're here for her. She knows they are and it is a comfort. But she can't make herself go knock on their door, or wake them up.

“Hey,” a soft voice says, and Capable startles, spilling cooling tea over herself.

Maybe Capable's secretly a powerful telepath, because Cheedo is walking up to her, blanket held around her like a comfy cape. 

“You okay?” Cheedo asks.

“Fine,” is what Capable means to say, but a shaky “No,” is the only thing that comes out.

Cheedo takes the half full mug from Capable's hands, puts it on the table. She sits down next to her, places a hand on Capable's shoulder.

“Nightmares?”

Capable looks down.

“No. Just memories.”

Cheedo nods, snuggles deeper into her blanket.

“What about you?” Capable asks.

“Nightmares,” Cheedo admits.

Capable puts an arm around Cheedo, pulling her into a half hug. Doesn't ask whether she's okay because she knows the answer to that. Just tries to let her know that she's there and she knows. That neither of them is alone in this, or anything else.

Cheedo turns on the TV after a while, volume on so low they can barely hear. Flicks through channels till she finds something nice and safe, some romantic period drama. Dramatic pining over lost loves on English moors or something. It's the middle of the film, but trying to figure out who's pining for who and why their love is doomed makes for a good distraction. They must fall asleep at some point, because Capable wakes up the next morning on the sofa, neck stiff and uncomfortable, with Cheedo cuddled up to her.

-

Capable spends her day off doing research. Well, the morning, anyhow. Toast is working, and the flat is fairly quiet. Cheedo is in her room, listening to music. The sound's on low, just a murmur. Dag's working with Toast. Capable's been down to get herself a cup of coffee and one of Dag's weird pastries. It's a bit more cinnamon-y than she would prefer, but still good. She's got her laptop in front of her, is reading all the news articles she can come across mentioning the War Boys. There are a lot.

Apparently the club's been around for ages and ages. Thirty years at least. The articles disagree. Countless fights. Suspicions of smuggling of fire arms. Clearly that's more than a suspicion. Violence. So much violence. Alliances with other clubs breaking and reforming. It's a confusing picture. She reads the comments on the various articles. Anonymous people arguing heatedly that the club's innocent. Others that it needs to be shut down. She finds herself agreeing with the latter.

She sits back, sips her latte. A bird caws outside. She wonders what got Nux and Slit into the club, because they don't strike her as inherently awful violent people. She understands the need to belong, and she understands going to not quite healthy steps to get that feeling, and how bad of an idea that can be. But she also found a seven year old picture in one of the articles, and she thinks she recognizes a teenaged Nux. Clearly if they were going to change their minds they've had time to do so. And they haven't. Only rational thing is to ignore them, she thinks. Although that would be a lot easier if her heart didn't do that dumb fluttery skipping thing whenever they walk into the Green Place. 

She sighs and closes her laptop. Her taste is terrible. Really terrible. Unhealthy and also doomed and she needs to do something about that. Needs to get her mind off those awful scarred up faces and shaven heads and tasteless neck brands. She needs to go out.

It takes very little time to convince Dag to come out with her that night. Cheedo is too young to drink, and Toast says she won't leave her alone, so that's that. Sort of. Toast has this distrust in her eyes, like she thinks Capable is about to mess up. But Capable powers through, ignores it. Notes the tiny twitch of her eyes when Dag so readily agrees to go. That's a drama Capable is definitely staying out of.

It's been ages since last Capable went out, and she lets herself enjoy getting ready. Takes a long luxurious shower, probably robbing one of her sisters of warm water for hers. Uses the fanciest, nicest smelling shampoo she finds. Gets her make up just right. She doesn't dress fancy, though. Nice jeans and a silvery top under a warm brown faux-leather jacket. It gets chilly quick at night, and she's not comfortable wearing anything out that she can't run in. She wears her favourite ear rings, the small five petalled flowers. She found them online, and they look almost exactly like the Green Place's logo. A petal for each of the four sisters, and the one they lost. 

She and Dag set up a texting code with the others. Phrases they can send Toast easy, letting her know they're fine, or that they need help or whatever. The sisters look out for each other. They know the things that can happen. 

They go out shortly after it gets dark. The echo of a sunset lingers on the horizon. Dag looks like she usually does, white blonde hair fluttering in the wind, covered in shawls. She's got the little rodent skull on a chain around her neck again. She found it by the road some time ago. Took it home and cleaned it. Capable thinks it's a bit weird, a bit disgusting, but mostly that's because she was unfortunate enough to witness the cleaning process. She has to admit Dag's shaman-chic fashion looks good.

Apparently Dag knows a place. Capable doesn't ask how. But it's nice. Well lit, and people don't seem too drunk. A band is playing on a small stage, some world music thing. It's not quite Capable's thing, but Dag seems to like it. They order drinks, sit there for a while listening. It's nice. Nice and calm, and when Capable looks back the next day, she's not quite sure how they ended up in a busy nightclub. 

It's four am again, but this time there's pounding music. She feels her skeleton vibrate. The colourful drink in her hand isn't helping. She sees Dag a little closer to the bar, dancing like some river spirit. She can see people watching in awe. Capable vaguely remembers dancing with someone, but she can't picture the person. Can't remember if it was here or the last place they went. The lights blink on and off to the beat of the music, a neon rainbow, but it feels unhealthy, like the colours of an oil spill. It makes her sea sick. 

She manages to ask for some water at the bar, but she suspects it's too late for that. The beat of the music makes everything sway. She stumbles her way over to Dag, suggests that maybe they should go. Dag pouts, but follows her. Somehow she seems a lot more sober than Capable. This seems unfair. 

They don't manage to get as far as leaving for another half hour. The time is fuzzy in Capable's head. By the time they're walking back home her head has started to ache. Which, definitely unfair. She's supposed to get to sleep before that happens. Dag makes her stop and buy a bottle of water on the way, convinces her to drink it all. It doesn't help in the slightest, which she tells her. Possibly numerous times. 

It's almost starting to get light out by the time they reach the Green Place. It's raining, and Capable stops, tips her head up to enjoy it. Dag laughs and lets her for a few moments, then drags her inside. They stumble up the stairs noisily. Capable trips maybe twice. The stairs, she complains, are too steep. She suggests they make Furiosa fix this. Dag laughs, makes sure she gets to bed. If Toast wakes up at the noise Capable doesn't notice.

-

“Capable!” a voice shouts, and Capable can feel the noise like a drill through her skull.

She blinks her eyes open and immediately regrets it. The sun is bright through the bedroom window, which means it's about two in the afternoon. The fact that her shift starts at three floats through her mind but she ignores it. Pulls the pillow over her head. Everything is a mistake. Everything is pain.

“Capable, I'm serious.”

“It's too late,” Capable tells Toast. “I have died. I am dead. Get someone else.”

She can actually hear Toast rolling her eyes. Her sheets are forcefully removed, and a hand locks around her wrist, dragging her up. She is powerless to resist. Toast drags her into the bathroom. Starts the shower. Hands her a couple pills and a large glass of water. Capable suspects it's maybe possible she woke Toast up at dawn, looks down guiltily. Takes the pills and downs the water and promises Toast she'll be ready for her shift.

By the time she's ready to start she feels a tiny bit better. She can't manage to eat anything because her stomach is a hellish pit of pain, but manages to drink more water, even to look almost awake. Dag laughs at her when she comes downstairs to join her. She's somehow completely fine and Capable's not sure what she's done to deserve this.

The café's not busy, thankfully. A couple elderly ladies come in, the kind that wear velvet in tones of greens and purples and oranges. They order some of Dag's special teas, sit and talk with her. Capable doesn't feel up to following the conversation. Doesn't feel up to much, to be honest. Focuses on ignoring her head, which is still pounding. And so it's not ideal timing when she hears the muted roar of motorcycles approaching. They stop somewhere out of sight and she hopes it's someone new, someone she hasn't met. Or that older biker dude who's been by, he seems nice. Whoever, just not.

But whatever bad karma she's somehow accumulated keeps on giving, because Slit and Nux walk in. The old ladies at Dag's table scowl and huddle, and Dag greets them with a knowing smirk. Capable's not sure what that's about. She gives them a tired but professional smile. Asks them what they want despite the fact they've only ever ordered one thing. They look unfairly good. She suspects her plan of drinking to forget she likes them hasn't quite worked. She swears internally and she suspects it shows.

“You okay?” Nux asks, voice low.

“Fine. Great. Amazing even,” she says, and rubs her head.

Apparently they can guess what's wrong, because Nux looks mildly amused and Slit actually laughs at her. This is unfair. Horrible. She glares at him and he puts up surrender hands, but his carved up smile somehow takes away from the sincerity. She wonders if their scars are deliberate or accidents. Nux's must have been on purpose, at least the ones on his lips. Must have hurt like hell. Probably tells her all she needs to know about why these guys are bad news. She focuses on this, and not how nice the angles of Slit's face looks, or just how Nux's eyelashes frame his eyes.

She can hear the old ladies' chatter turn to the guys. They're not nice. Slit and Nux don't seem to mind. Maybe they're used to it. She wants to send them an apologetic look but fights it down. Ignoring them, that's the way to go. Or at least not encouraging them. She draws the smiley on Slit's cup, a wide eyed skull on Nux's. She's never quite noticed that that's what his scars are before, but she sees it now. Warning sign. She hands their cups over and they thank her. Slit shoves some coins into the tip jar. They say goodbye, leave. She doesn't watch.

There's something else in the tip jar, she sees. A scrap of paper. It looks like it's torn from a flyer. It's for some large outdoor concert next week. She's vaguely heard of it before. She doesn't recognize the names of the performers. An eight digit number is scrawled on the back. She looks back out to the street, but there's no one there. The number's not listed, she sees, when she looks it up online later. She stuffs it in her pocket. To toss out, she tells herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worry about doing Capable justice. Her past and things. How she acts and what happens to her. She's not been in like? The last two chapters at all. And she doesn't have as much of an own storyline yet. This is me trying to start fixing that because she's great and the other sisters are great and I love them and although I still find Slit easier to write by far I'm gonna work harder on making Capable a bigger part of the story.   
> Also want to point out, in case you're wondering. Dag, not currently pregnant. Just. For clarity. It's. I'm getting to the explaining bits, but it's taking time. I just want it to be clear.


	9. ??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension intensifies.

“What's that, then?” Dag asks, resting her chin on Capable's shoulder.

“Nothing,” Capable says quickly, and tries to stuff the scrap of paper into a pocket.

She fails, drops it on the floor from which Dag snaps it up. She examines it, look of something like approval crossing her face.

“You going?”

Capable shakes her head, cheeks heating up. She doesn't meet Dag's eyes. Dag tsks.

“Why not? You like them, yeah?”

“Because it's a terrible idea,” Capable says, a little sharper than necessary.

“Why?”

“Because they're violent criminals. Part of an awful club. Because it's not even been a year yet since- well. You know.”

Dag puts a hand on each of Capable's shoulders, speaks close to her ear, voice soft and insistent.

“Which, exactly why ya need to go sweet sweet Capable, need to reignite yourself and be happy and whole,” Dag says, and yeah, that's a nice sentiment, but-

“No,” Capable tells her, “Toast's right it's bad it's unhealthy and I don't need… Whatever it would be.”

“You don't,” Dag agrees, and Capable frowns. “Doesn't mean it wouldn't make ya happy, yeah? That not good enough?”

Capable lets Dag lead her to sit down at one of the three tables. There's no customers, no people in sight at all. Economically not amazing, but at least break time is often. Dag's jewellery clinks against the table as she shuffles her chair closer. 

“I suppose,” Capable replies after several minutes, “but I want to and I'm not sure I trust myself yet.”

 

-

A day or two after, Capable's not counting, Nux comes in. He's alone this time. Looks tired. Dark circles under his eyes and paler than usual. His fingers are dirty, covered in something black like broken ink. He's not, she notices, wearing his club jacket. Black hoodie and jeans, and while not dissimilar it's a much softer look. She finds she vastly prefers it. His fingers fiddle with the bit of drawstring. He gives her a careful smile as he walks up to the counter. When she returns the smile it's more heartfelt than last time.

“Hi,” she says Brightly, “what can I get you today?”

“The usual?” he says tentatively, and there's this sort of shy half grin that makes something inside her melt.

“That include one for your absent friend?” she asks, but there's something in his face, something she can't quite interpret.

“Nah,” he tells her, “just me today.”

She accepts his money, pretending she doesn't notice when he opens his mouth to speak, several times, but falters. Draws a tiny happy skull next to his name on the cup.

“He really is sorry,” Nux says at last, accepting his cup with a smile. 

He takes a sip, makes a face like he's tasting heaven. Capable suspects he's exaggerating for her sake.

“Yeah?” she says, not quite sure how to respond.

“He didn't want to get ya involved. Panicked. He's… He's not great at thinkin' quick. And he's got in bad trouble for it. Before an' now.”

“That. It's fine, I guess?” she begins, but “actually you know what. It wasn't. It was absolutely not fine. Made me accessory to crime. Made me lie to the police. That was pretty far from goddamn fine.”

Nux ducks his head in shame and she wants to mediate her statement but she doesn't. Looking him firmly in the eye without hint of apology takes effort but she does it.

“I know,” he says, “Slit knows too and I- fuck. I get why ya banned us from stayin' here. We deserve it.”

“You kind of do,” she agrees, but makes her voice kind.

Nux looks like a confused puppy. His fingers tap out nervous rhythms on his cup. She runs a hand through her hair, tries to think of a way to say what she wants to say.

“Look,” she tells him after a moment, “I'll see you both next week, right? At the concert thing?”

Nux face brightens instantly, she thinks she can actually see his eyes get bluer.

“But one condition, all right?”

He nods eagerly.

“No War Boy jackets and things.”

“Okay,” he says, but she can tell he's confused.

“It's just,” she begins, leaning on the counter, “I'm not really comfortable with your club. It scares me. It's… I've been warned away from you all, and probably I shouldn't even go. But you guys seem really nice and I'm going to hang out with you as people separate from that. If that makes sense, if that's okay with you?”

“I can see why,” Nux says and he can't quite meet her eyes, stares down into his coffee. 

“Ya gotta know, though, not all of that's easy to put down,” he continues, rubs self-consciously at the tattooed brand on the back of his neck.

“I get that,” she tells him, giving him a small smile, “but what you can, right? That's my condition, anyway.”

“We'll make it happen,” Nux promises her.

“Great,” she tells him, “I look forward to it.”

-

The Citadel's quiet today and Nux hates it. A bunch of the guys are gone, off on some official business no one bothered telling him about. Slit's one of them, and it makes Nux uneasy. He worries Slit's getting too caught up in proving he's not a fuck up. Worries he'll do something stupid. That he'll agree to things he wouldn't usually want to do. Nux knows he's scared of getting kicked out of the only place either of them have ever belonged. Will ever belong. 

He texts Slit, asks if everything's going okay, and after a minute or two he gets a thumbs up emoji back. So that's good.

Nux doesn't do well with quiet. Or with being alone. There are a couple of guys working, but no one he particularly likes. Usually Slit spends too much time hanging where Nux is working, distracting him. Nux pretends to be annoyed but it makes the Citadel feel like home. Now it's silent except for distant clanking of metal on metal. He can't concentrate.

Nux: back 2nite?

Slit: maybe

Nux: :/

Slit: ye

Nux: 2 quiet

Slit: i know. will try. 

Nux stuffs the phone back into his pocket. Tries to focus on his work. Tries to fill his thoughts only with the intricate workings of the machine in front of him. It works for a while. But before he knows it he's pacing, resisting the urge to get his phone back out. The closest mechanic, some new guy, looks at Nux weird. Nux looks at him, a challenge, and he shrugs and goes back to his work.

-

It's not till the day after, or rather the night, that Slit returns. It's the maybe an hour or two before dawn, and Nux wakes up to the feeling of the bed dipping and creaking, and then a warm chest against his back and a thick arm slung over his hip. 

“Hey,” Slit whispers, dry lips against the back of Nux's neck. “You awake?”

“Nah,” Nux whispers back. 

He wriggles around till he's facing Slit. He's covered in cuts and bruises that look bad even in the faint moonlight. One of his eyes is swollen shut. The other is looking at Nux with some intense emotion he can't identify.

“Hope the other guy looks worse,” Nux says, stroking a finger down a particularly long cut across Slit's collarbone.

Slit hisses, but doesn't flinch away. Nux smiles a sleepy smile.

“I came out on top,” Slit tells him.

“Mmm good,” Nux mumbles, his eyes closing on their own. “Like you on top.”

Slit laughs, a little too loud for this quiet night. Nux feels him move closer, arm tight around Nux. Faces close. Nux falls back asleep quickly, comfortably, to the soft sound of Slit's breathing.

When he wakes up it's nearly noon. Slit's still fast asleep. He gets out of bed without waking him. It's a day off, and Slit looks like he needs the rest. In the light of day he looks a lot worse. He hasn't cleaned his cuts, or, going by the smell, showered since he left three days earlier. Nux sighs. Gets up, finds the small first aid kit stashed in the bathroom. Sits down on the bed next to Slit and pulls the sheets off gently. Dabs lightly at the worst cuts, trying to get the sand and dirt out of them without waking Slit.

“Fuckin' reckless idiot,” he tells him, voice barely above a whisper.

When Nux gets to the largest of the cuts, Slit moves in his sleep. Turns halfway over so he's lying on his back. Oddly helpful when he's not conscious. His head lolls to the side. There's a small wet stain on the pillow where drool has leaked through his face. His eye looks a little less bad than last night. Nux finishes cleaning him up, but stays there, looking down at him. At all the little designs he carved into his stomach when they were younger and decided scarification was the chromest thing ever. At the thick, lumpy scars that have finally been there long enough to just become part of his face. At a dark blue eye blinking open.

“Mornin',” he says.

Slit groans.

“Wass goin' on?” 

“Nothing. You feel all right? Looks bad,” Nux says, nodding at his injuries.

“Had worse,” Slit tells him. 

“What happened?”

“Usual. Little disagreement. Some dick brings a knife to a fist fight. I have to fix everythin'.”

“Oh yeah, I know how ya hate fights,” Nux says, rolling his eyes.

Slit smirks.

“Yeah. How's everythin' been here?”

“Terrible. I have wasted away without ya,” Nux says only half jokey.

“Always do. Can't leave ya for a minute,” Slit says, smirk still firmly in place.

Nux smiles fondly down at him, and Slit laughs again. 

“Such a fuckin' softie,” he tells Nux, who can't find it in himself to disagree today.

“Talked to Capable again,” Nux says after a moment. “She's comin' to the concert.”

Slit's smirk changes into a genuinely excited grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She wants us at our least War Boyish, though.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Scared of us.”

Slit's face falls. His scars twitch.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“'S my fault, ain't it.”

“Probably.”

And Slit looks so offended.

“Ain't ya s'posed to reassure me it's just our bad rep?”

“Slit.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever. Shit. Guess we play nice, then?”

“We be nice. Will be nice. Whatever. Right? 'Cause she's nice an' we like her.”

“'S what I meant.”

Nux isn't sure. He looks hard at Slit. Willing him to understand. Slit looks away first, lets his head fall back onto the pillow.

“I will be, though,” Slit tells him. “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so short it was so hard to write like actually walking through mud i hope the next goes better.


	10. Date Night Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a date but unfortunately Slit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to iOTA while reading this chapter. Also in general he seems so lovely. But like. For immersive purposes.

It's a couple days later and Nux and Slit are getting ready. This is a lengthier process than usual. Despite the fact that the concert's outdoors and given their luck it will definitely rain and become muddy and awful, Nux insists they wear something clean. This is complicated. So they've done laundry for the first time in embarrassingly long. 

“Bit late to make a good first impression, ain't it?” Slit asks.

He's leaning against the wall, watching Nux try to figure out how the dryer works.

“Just tryin' to show her we care,” Nux mumbles.

“Don't think we'll fool her. But hey, ain't gonna stop ya. Machine looks like it is, though.”

It is. It refuses to do anything but splutter and cough mechanically, and Nux fixing skills do not extend to non-vehicles. He looks helplessly at the machine, and it's horribly pathetic and Slit laughs. 

“It'll be fine. She's seen us before, can't be that disappointed,” he says, puts a hand on Nux's shoulder.

Nux sighs.

“I know. Just wanted to...”

“I know. C'mon, let's find somethin' else, yeah?”

“Okay.”

The trudge back up the stairs to the flat. Leave the hamper thing full of wet clean laundry in the bathroom. Fix it later, Slit suggests. Nux is too deflated to disagree. 

“Important thing is not club stuff, yeah? It'll be all good,” Slit tells Nux, petting his freshly shaven head.

Nux makes a soft, agreeing sort of noise, leaning into Slit's touch, which becomes complicated given how fucking tall he is.

In the end they go as they are. Slit's wearing filthy jeans and that awful yellow sweater, because it's the least smelly thing he finds. Feels a bit naked without his leather jacket, but he'll live. Pulls the hood up so the tattoo on his neck can't be seen. He hasn't shaved his head. Skull's still too covered in half healed cuts for that to be a good idea. Nux looks better. Clothes slightly more coordinated. All blacks for him, and before they leave Slit has trouble resisting the urge to remove all those clothes. But that can wait. Plenty of time for that later.

The concert area's absolutely fucking packed. They park their bikes outside. Slit gives Razor Cola a fond pat. They queue for what feels like hours to get in. Slit tries to threaten their way to the front of the queue, but Nux holds him back. Playing nice. Still playing nice. Or being nice. Whichever.

“'S no fun,” Slit grumbles, arms crossed, scowling at anyone who looks his way.

They get in eventually. Wander about a bit, look for Capable. It's a huge area, and people are everywhere. Stalls selling beer and- well, it's mostly beer, dominate the back area. People have grabbed the good patches of ground, setting up folding chairs and laughing and drinking and shouting to be heard. There's not actual scene anywhere, Slit notices, but he doesn't question it, because he spots fiery hair and drags Nux along.

They see Capable a little ways away and she looks stunning. They've only ever seen her wearing the neither unflattering nor particularly nice vague uniform of the green place. And honestly, given her hair colour, Slit thinks it make her look a tiny bit like a christmas decoration. Now she's wearing some very flattering jeans, high boots, and what looks like at least three layers of sweaters. It's kind of adorable. Slit and Nux half lean on each other, both too busy staring to do anything for a moment, then make their way over.

“Hey,” Nux shouts excitedly over the noise.

Capable makes some reply Slit can't hear. They communicate via vague hand gestures, move to someplace more quiet. They huddle near the fences.

“Jesus, what happened to your face?” is the first thing Capable says to Slit.

He narrows his eyes at her. Well, the one he can move naturally anyway. The left one's still messed up.

“I, uh, I mean lately?” Capable backtracks. “Wait, shit. Sorry.”

Nux laughs.

“Just got into a minor argument,” he tells her, and then, when Nux elbows him hard, adds in a flat and unconvincing voice “I mean. I fell down some stairs.”

Capable squints suspiciously, but doesn't question it further. 

“Either way, I'm glad you came all civilian,” she tells them, smiling. "Thanks."

There's a quiet moment. They all sort of fidget nervously, and Slit, always the responsible one, tells them he's going to go get them all beer. He suspects Capable still feels more at ease around Nux, and he can't really blame her. It does bother him, though. 

He shoves through the crowds easy. Bulk and height help with things like this. So, probably, does his face. Especially cut up and bruised like this. Shoulders his way the front of the line, snarling at everyone who looks like they're about to argue. Nux and Capable wouldn't approve he thinks, and there's a slight twinge of something almost close to guilt. Useless. He shuts it down. Is almost ready to order when someone shoves into him, like he's done to half of the line. He spins around, shoves right back.

“What the fuck, mate?,” he says to what turns out to be a familiar face.

Oh god no this isn't fucking fair. That dim fucking face staring back at him.

“Oh, hey, Slit! Didn't know ya were gonna be here!” Morsov says brightly.

“Yeah,” Slit says with as little enthusiasm as humanly possible.

“Hey, I'm with some of the guys from the club over there,” Morsov says, gesturing vaguely in some direction, puts his hand on Slit's shoulder and Slit has to work hard to repress a shiver. “Welcome to join us if you wanna?”

“Nah,” Slit says, shaking his head vigorously. “Here with a girl.”

“Aaah, it's like that, huh,” Morsov says with what might be intended as a knowing smile. “Nux told me the same thing a few days ago. Double date, huh?”

“Yeah. Somethin' like that,” Slit says.

He's first in line now, and gets four beers to avoid suspicion. Tosses cash for it. Nods his goodbye at Morsov.

“Nice hoodie,” Morsov says and somehow he seems fucking genuine. “See ya around.”

Slit hurries away, balancing the beers with difficulty. Of all the people to be here it had to be fucking him. And there's more War Boys here too, that's not a good sign. He makes a note of the direction Morsov pointed out, decides to stay away from there. Keep Capable away from there. It'll be fine, he tells himself, and drinks half of one of the beers on the way back in what is his finest display of balance and dexterity yet.

Capable and Nux are chatting animatedly when he gets back and he stops for a moment before approaching them, just looking. They're both smiling, excited and he feels himself smiling along, and he would stay and watch them for a moment longer, but some asshole walks into him and it's a miracle he doesn't spill any beer. He growls at the person who apologises, scurries away. Nux and Capable don't appear to have noticed. Lucky.

“Someone joinin' us?” Nux asks, eyeing the extra beer.

“Nah, that one's mine too,” Slit says, handing one to Capable and Nux each.

Nux frowns.

“Guy from the club was in the queue next to me,” Slit explains.

Nux nods, but Capable looks confused.

“The other guys they're not… very open minded,” Nux says carefully. 

“Oh. You don't want them to know you're…?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Slit confirms before she can get more specific.

“That doesn't seem good,” she says, takes a sip of beer.

Nux shrugs helplessly. Slit downs the rest of his first beer. The ground's dry enough, and there's still a while till the actual concert is scheduled to start, so they sit down. Speakers somewhere are blaring something, but Slit barely notices it. He's looking at Capable, the way everything she does looks so graceful. It's not a quality he's all that used to. She's looking at them too. Or, well, at where their thighs touch. She sees Slit watching her look, and there's this quick sort of blush and she takes another sip of her beer, looking down. Nux doesn't seem to notice this. He's started telling Capable about his bike, about how chrome it is, all the cool modifications. She seems genuinely interested, though Slit can tell she's not quite following Nux's enthusiastic explanations. Her eyes keep darting to Slit and Nux, though, and Slit starts subtly moving closer to Nux, all quick small touches, grinning whenever he catches Capable looking. She keeps looking and it keeps amusing him until Nux catches on, turns to look at him suspiciously.

“Slit. Slit you're doin' somethin' weird, ain't ya?” he says, voice flat.

Slit silences his question by dragging him into a deep kiss. They're sitting somewhere pretty secluded, and he's fairly sure no one he knows is near. Still, it's kind of thrilling. Nux's lips are soft and taste like cheap beer. He responds enthusiastically, also having seemingly forgotten where they are. They break apart, and Capable is staring at them with some mixture of glee and worry. Her cheeks are pink, and it's very charming. 

“So wh-” Capable starts to say, but is interrupted by… something.

Some vast sound is coming from somewhere they can't see. They can feel the rumbling in the ground, hear the wail of a guitar in the distance. They scramble to their feet, look around. It's Capable who spots it first.

“Oh wow,” she breathes, eyes wide.

Slit follows her gaze and shiiiit. It's… It's a vehicle of sorts, that much is clear. Some giant thing covered in speakers. A lone figure is suspended from cords. They're dressed in red, have got a guitar and some kind of mask on, but from this distance that's all Slit can make out. He gets a glimpse of someone on the back of the thing when it turns. The vehicle drives closer, to where the stage would naturally be. It's a hell of an entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yeah that is. Literally just the Doof Wagon. Only here I guess it's performance art and not a war party. Not commenting on whether Doof's mask still is his mum's face though.
> 
> Next part of chapter coming tomorrow. Or later today given that's it's fuckin five am. Whatever. Soon. After a unit of sleep.


	11. Date Night Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The venn diagram of things I know nothing about and things I've chosen to include in this fic is a circle.

The music is deafening, but maybe that's a good thing. It's screeching guitars, pounding drums, the sound of life. They make their way closer to the “stage”, Slit in front, un-gently shoving people out of their way. Nux and Capable are too busy paying attention to the music to notice. They end up pretty close, huddled together against the press of people on all sides. Nux and Slit on either side of Capable. In case Morsov's looking, in case people get violent. And because it feels right. Slit puts an arm around her, and she looks up at him, quick shy smile, and something in his chest does a somersault. She leans warm against him. He catches Nux's eye, grins, and Nux smiles back, bright and excited.

Slit can see the guy on stage clearer, now. His guitar is a fucking masterpiece. At one point it shoots flames, and it's the chromest shit Slit's ever seen. The guy's wearing some sort of mask, like leather, straight out of a horror movie. A better fashion choice than the red onesie. There's something somehow familiar about the part of his face Slit can see, about the voice. He can't quite put his finger on it. He doesn't think he's seen any of this guy's stuff before. Isn't really his genre, but still sounds pretty badass.

Nux nudges Slit's hands, nods at something in the crowd. Slit looks, frowning, till he sees Morsov and the guys a little ways off. They seem to be heading closer, but Slit's not sure whether that's to do with them or if they're just trying to get closer to the stage. Either way, he and Nux communicate via drowned out shouting and hand gestures to Capable that they should move. She frowns, but follows them a bit further from the stage. When they're what Nux deems to be a safe distance off, Slit leans down, half shouts “War boys” and Capable looks grateful.

They remain on the side for the rest of the concert. It's pretty magnificent even from there. The music's fantastic. And the dude with the guitar doesn't waste his time talking or anything, just straight up music all the way. Slit likes that. Screeching guitar, and drums. Feeling the music vibrate through him, through everything. It ends too soon, he thinks. Guy just lets his guitar hang from it's cords, manipulates the ones he hangs in so he's lounging in mid air. Catches the water bottle a stage tech tosses him without looking. Smirks at nothing in particular. Slit's a bit jealous at how effortlessly cool this guy is.

The drums keep going as the stage drives away. The muttering of the crowd replaces the roar, but it's lower now. Softer. Nux is leading them off somewhere slightly calmer. The drums fade out.

“That was amazing,” Capable says when it's gotten quiet enough for them to speak without shouting.

“I need that guitar,” Nux agrees.

“Ya can't play,” Slit reminds him, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for Nux.

“Ya think I could put flame throwers on Razor Cola?” Slit wonders out loud.

“Could, yeah. Should? Absofuckinlutely not. Kill yourself in half a day.”

“But whatta chrome way to go, yeah?”

“Slit, What have I told ya 'bout dyin' in explosions?”

“...Not yet?”

“Not at all. Okay?”

“No fun.”

Capable's watching them, wavering between amusement and worry. Slit grins at her, tries to make it reassuring, but it's not his best emotion. She smiles though, so it's not all bad.

“Wanna go somewhere quieter and less outside?” Slit asks.

 

They end up in a cosy little bar/café combo. It's Capable's suggestion. Slit's never been here before, but he finds, surprisingly, that he likes it. Even if it looks like it was decorated by someone's grandma. It's warm lights and comfy booths and definitely safe from fellow War Boys. Capable gets some fancy tea thing, which she says is amazing. Nux gets one of those too, and Slit laughs at him and calls him soft. He gets another beer, a fancy one with a rad looking car on it. It tastes horrible. He's not drinking it because he's nervous, that's not it at all, but it's just… Ah fuck it, it's because he's nervous. Can admit that much in the safety of his head. 

Nux and him got together, gradually and naturally, when they were in their early teens. It was never a question. There were never dates or any of that shit, no nervous not knowing of the person you like. Just best mates whose physical interaction changed. Became more intimate. It was easy. Or, well, that's untrue. There were lots of bad bits, like the first time Nux kissed someone else and Slit thought that meant he didn't like Slit any more. Also the time Ace walked in on them fucking while they were still living at his house. He was good, didn't tell anyone, never mentioned it again, in fact, but they moved out not long after. Still, that was all different. 

Slit sips his beer, winces. It tastes like the gasoline he drank on a dare once, embarrassingly recently. Draws nervous designs in the condensation on his glass. Moves so his thigh touches Nux's under the table. To give Nux the emotional support he desperately needs. Obviously. 

“So...” Capable starts, then drifts off, looks unsure. “Can I ask, what the stories behind those scars are?”

She looks like she wants to apologise. Like she thinks it's horrible and personal, like scars aren't things to be bragged about. Which, to Slit, seems odd. But in a fleeting moment of self-awareness he realises she might not have the same view. He looks to Nux.

“His or mine? And which of them?”

She shrugs, indicates that both or either. Nux looks at Slit, makes a go ahead sort of gesture. He leans, over the table, grins wide.

“You wanna know how I got these scars?” he asks in his best Joker impression.

“Every time,” Nux says, exasperated, “Every single fuckin' time. Not a day goes by I don't curse Christopher Nolan.”

But Capable laughs and nods, and Slit's grin twists into some nicer, something more genuine. He leans back again. Nux and Capable both look expectantly at him, and he takes his time, pausing dramatically as he recalls the tragic event.

“I was out on a run for the club, see. This was years ago. I was young an' maybe a bit reckless. We were on bad terms with a rival gang, then. Was a sabotage mission. We knew where that club was stashin' their, uh, dubiously legal substances. Simple mission, in theory. Two locations. Get in, start fire, get out. But it went south. Someone had ratted, and they were waitin' for us, whole pack a them. It was jus' me an' one other guy, an' I fought them off, knocked 'em out. Were draggin' 'em outta the buildin' so they wouldn't burn up. But one of 'em, he's awake, been pretendin', and jumps up, slashes at my face with a goddamn machete. Who the fuck knows where he was stashin' that. I knock him out again, but not till my half my face is fallin' off. Guy I'm with, though, used to be a medic. Stitches me up quick an' decent. Shoves a couple staples in to keep it in place, an' we get back on our bikes, and get to the second location, finish that off without a hitch.”

Capable looks horrified, hand over her mouth and eyes wide. Nux rolls his eyes.

“'S all bullshit,” he tells Capable. “Literally not one word of that is true.”

Slit pouts, crosses his arms.

“One day ya gotta let me deceive people in peace.”

“He crashed his bike an' landed face first on razor wire,” Nux tells Capable, ignoring Slit's protests. “An' the staples are still in because he was s'posed to take 'em out after a week but he forgot his fuckin' doctor's appointment an' now they're stuck.”

“Still horrifying to picture,” Capable reassures Slit, putting a hand over his.

Some kinda warm and fluttery emotion spreads through his chest. He's going soft again. Shit.

“Nux got the one on his nose because he dropped a tool on his face while workin' on a car,” Slit retorts.

“Slit got three huge ones on his stomach from tryin' to jump over a fence drunk an' falling on it instead.”

“How are you guys still alive?” Capable asks.

“Too chrome to die,” Nux says, and holds his fist up.

Slit bumps it with his own without looking. Capable looks thoughtful.

“What about the ones on your mouth, what are those from?”

Nux runs a finger over his lower lip, and Slit really feels like replacing it with his mouth. He looks over at Capable, whose mind seems to have gone to a similar place judging by her flushed cheeks.

“Slit did those for me,” Nux says.

“Li'l guy wanted to prove he could take pain,” Slit shrugs.

“I wasn't little,” Nux argues.

“You were fifteen. An' about your height,” Slit adds, nodding at Capable.

“Fuck off,” Nux grumbles.

“He cried like a baby at the pain.”

“I did no such thing,” Nux growls at Slit, glaring.

Slit smirks. 

“Why would you even think that was a good idea?” Capable asks.

“Looked chrome,” Nux says, shrugging. “Good prep for gettin' my V8, too.”

“Your what?”

“He's got a V8 engine block carved on his chest,” Slit explains. “That one really is chrome. Amazing detail.”

“Huh. That sounds… unnecessary and painful, but sure,” Capable says. “What about that one, the one on your neck there?”

Nux goes very still. Slit instinctively moves a bit in front of him, as if he needs shielding from the question. Capable looks confused.

“I- uh, I didn't mean to- Did I say something wrong? You don't need to tell me if you don't want to,” she says, voice unsteady.

Nux sighs. Sort of nudges Slit's shoulder gratefully.

“'S fine,” he tells her. “It's, uh, cancer. All cut out now.”

“Shit. Shit I'm so sorry.”

Nux waves off her apology, but it's clear the subjects dead. Capable looks guilty, stares down into the dregs of her fancy tea thing. Slit watches Nux's face carefully for a moment, but he doesn't look back. Okay. 

“So. Capable,” Slit starts, awkwardly, grasping, “what's the story with you and your sisters? And are they really your sisters?”

He knows the answer to the latter, he thinks, but this silence is getting uncomfortable. And slight hint of a buzz Slit does not do well with uncomfortable silences.

“Uh, well, no. They're not, like, biologically related to me. They are my sisters, though. We, well. We all work at the café. Furiosa, fixed it so we'd have somewhere after. She-”

“ _The_ Furiosa?” Slit asks incredulously.

“I, uh, maybe?” Capable shrugs, seems not to notice the momentousness of her revelation.

“The Furiosa Jobassa of the Vuvalini?”

“That's her name, but I'm not sure...”

“She's so badass!” Slit exclaims, unable to help himself. “Saw her beat the crap outta Ace once, years ago. It was so fuckin' chrome!”

“Wasn't that cool,” Nux says, puts a hand on Slit's shoulder, a chill out type of thing.

“You kidding me? It was fuckin' amazing!”

Nux rolls his eyes.

“Was maybe eight years ago,” he explains to a clearly baffled Capable, “was one of our first runs. Ran into the Vuvalini and shit got heated. Ace, that's a guy in the club, sorta our dad for a while, I guess, he got all up in her face about somethin', don't remember what, an' she beat him up using his own wrench. Was kind of brutal. Little Slit had a crush on her for ages after that.”

“Did not!” Slit exclaims in outrage.

“Totally did,” Nux insists, but sort of fondly, and Slit lets it go.

“I- What?” Capable says, frowning. “I guess that's why she told me to stay away from War Boys.”

“She did?” Slit asks, and he doesn't know why he's so disappointed.

Capable seems to notice, because her expression softens.

“Well, clearly I didn't listen,” she says, smiling.

“I'm glad,” Slit says carefully.

“We are. Really great that you showed up today, even though Slit's a horrible person,” Nux agrees, smiling brightly.

“Hey!”

And Nux turns to him, looks him in the eye all nice like he's about to kiss him, but instead just says

“You really kind of are.”

Slit narrows his eyes, but doesn't argue further. Probably Nux is right on some level.

“You, uh, you know I'm on this date thing or whatever with both of you, right? I'm gonna- You don't have to put each other down,” Capable says feebly, like she wants to resolve the tension.

“Best mates, known each other all our lives. Hard to avoid,” Nux tells her. 

Puts a hand on Slit's thigh under the table and Slit rolls his eyes, but nods. And that eases whatever it was made the air static. They stay talking till way too late. Nux and Slit telling Capable about all the dumb things they've done, Capable talking about her and her sisters, but not, they notice, anything old. They stay there far later than they should, all of them having to be up early the next morning. They give her a ride to the Green Place. She sits on Nux's bike, because, she says, he's had less to drink. Slit's not sure that's the entire reason. But he's content to watch them. Capable's arms locked around Nux's waist, long red hair flowing in the wind. They look good together. Right, somehow. 

“So, uh, can we see you again?” Nux asks hopefully when she gets off the bike.

“I hope so,” she says, “you two are like half our customers here.”

“I meant-” Nux begins, but Capable waves him off.

“I know. Yes. Yes you can. I had fun tonight,” she says.

Darts up to give both of them a kiss on the cheek, and disappears inside before they have time to react. Slit and Nux stand there unmoving for a moment.

“I think that went well,” Slit tells Nux later, when they're lying all over each other on the bed, covered in sweat.

“What, were ya expectin' it not to?” Nux asks, frowning.

“No, asshole, the date.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I think so too,” Nux agrees, and moves to rest his head on Slit's chest.

“Outsourcing breakfast to the Green Place tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than intended. Also Slit has fan boy tendencies. And yes, Furiosa had a good reason for beating Ace up. And yes, it was a super chrome fight.


	12. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real. Sorta. I'm so good at summaries, guys.

“Hey!”

Ace stops Slit as he and Nux are heading into the shop. Ushers Nux in. Gives Slit a hard look.

“Ain't no need for ya to come in today.”

“What the fuck? What's goin' on?”

Ace looks pained. 

“Just stay out. I'll text ya if anythin' changes.”

“But-”

“Slit. Just go.”

And so that's that, apparently. Slit's got no clue what's happened, but it's his own fucking fault he knows it. Or possibly Morsov's. But nah. Nah, Slit got careless and reckless and now he's paying for it. Ace has been very careful, not telling him or Nux or anyone about what's happening, about any consequences. And Slit know's he's doing that to be nice, to keep Slit and Nux from worrying while the whatever's being decided, but it's pissing Slit off. 

He leans against the wall of the garage. Texts Nux what's going on in a not at all bitter tone. Nux replies with a stream of question marks, but Slit's not got an answer. He turns the sound off and stuffs the phone into a pocket. Tries to think of anything to do. Anything to occupy his mind. He's in a sort of mental lag, his emotions haven't quite caught up yet. Mind's numb, but he knows it's not going to last. He's going to lash out, do something stupid, and he's going to regret it. He knows himself that well. He suspects Nux does to, but he ignores the insistent buzzing in his pocket. 

Slit wants to get in a fight, but it's eight in the morning. No one's going to be dumb enough to fight anyone looks like Slit at this hour. So next best thing. He gets back on Razor Cola, drives away.

The wind bites at his skin, feels like it's slicing open almost healed cuts. Stings his eyes. Drives icy needles into the skin of his fingers. He doesn't know where he is. Left the city as fast as he could. Driving on almost empty highways, somewhere he can speed up as much as he wants. Drive faster than his thoughts. And that's good, because when the rage hits, when he feels like he could kill someone with his bare hands, he's alone. Stops his bike by the side of the road. Growls. Grabs a knife out of the sheath attached to Razor Cola. Stalks away from the road.

–

“I can't believe her. It's reckless, she shouldn't-”

Capable stops in her tracks. She's heading downstairs to the café to start her shift, but stops at the sound of heated conversation. Sits down on a step, careful not to let it creak.

“Should do what she wants to. 'S good for her.”

“Don't make me be the bad guy here. If she could just, I don't know, get over it, then that would be great. I don't think that's what's happening. They're taking advantage.”

“Toast, my sweet and darling Toast, that's not your decision to make.”

“I don't want them to hurt her. I won't let them. She's- we've all-. There's been enough hurt.”

“That there has. But we cannot all find our dream among each other.”

There's a sound like kissing and Capable frowns, feels a twinge of guilt for listening. 

“Your worry is commendable but it will be fine. We'll all be fine.”

“I wish I could trust that.”

“I know. It'll get better. Now get back upstairs so our dearest Capable won't be stuck dropping eaves on the stairs any more.”

“What?”

Capable gives a scowling Toast an apologetic smile as she heads past. Joins Dag in the back room. Collects her hair in a messy braid.

“I feel bad stressing Toast out,” Capable admits, adjusting the knot on her pale green apron.

“She is our Toast, she'll find something to worry about. Better you than Cheedo.”

“True. Probably good someone does. I worry that I don't worry enough myself.”

“Think that might be a sign you do,” Dag tells her with an amused smile.

“Maybe,” Capable admits, sighing. “I, uh, I hear you two are, you know, going well together though?”

Dag smiles dreamily.

“We are indeed. Splendidly so.”

“That's good,” Capable says, gives her shoulder a squeeze. “I'm happy for you! Although it does make referring to you both as my sisters a little weird.”

“Somehow I don't think anyone would mistake me and Toast for biological sisters.”

“That,” Capable has to admit, “is a fair point.”

 

They spend a few hours being actually busy. This is rare, but not unwelcome. Capable and Dag have to both help customers, and she's not sure that's ever been necessary before. The smell of coffee and odd teas is strong enough that they have to prop open the door. This only seems to draw more customers, though. Most take their coffee to go, but a decent number sit down, too. She and Dag exchange occasional excited smiles at this sudden surge in popularity.

By late mid afternoon it's passed, whatever it was. At least for now. Back to quiet and boring. Dag's back to her baking experiments in the back. Capable stands in the doorway chatting with her, glancing at the entrance on occasion. The door is still open, the bell kept quiet, and so it comes as a surprise to her when she suddenly looks over to see Slit sitting at one of the tables. He looks absolutely miserable, despite his clear attempt at hiding this behind a scowl. Capable gives Dag a Significant Look, and walks over carefully.

Upon closer inspection she sees his knuckles are torn and bloody, but he doesn't look more beat up than usual. His leather jacket is in a heap on the floor, which strikes her as odd. Usually he seems very fond of the thing.

“Hey,” she says, and he looks up at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but it doesn't sound like he's even trying to be convincing.

“Want to talk about why your hands are bleeding? Have another disagreement?”

He looks down, as if puzzled. Moves his fingers and winces.

“Mhmm. With a brick wall,” he grunts.

“Oh-kay,” Capable says slowly, not entirely sure what she's supposed to say. “Any reason you were fighting a brick wall?”

“Pissed me off.”

“Sounds like an awful wall. I hope it looks worse than you,” she says tentatively.

Slit snorts.

“Weak as fuck wall. I won easy.”

“I bet,” she tells him. “Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah,” he says gratefully, but doesn't elaborate.

“Uh,” she says after a moment.

He shrugs, and she accepts the challenge. Goes to the back room.

“Hey,” she says, voice quiet. “Slit's here and, well, he seems really. I don't know. But can you, you know, not throw him out? I know Toast says to, but...”

She hope she doesn't sound too pleading. Dag smiles, though, eyes twinkly. Holds a a flour covered finger to her lips.

“Won't breathe a word about your sad lizard,” she promises.

“Lizard?” Capable asks, frowning.

“'S all in his aura,” Dag explains cryptically, which leaves Capable more confused, but she doesn't ask.

Just goes back to the main room, behind the counter. Deliberates for a moment. Slit really does look awful. He's just staring at the wall now, but luckily doesn't look likely to attack it. This seems, she concludes, like a hot chocolate with a hint of chilli type situation. She watches him while she prepares the drink, but he doesn't move, doesn't do anything. She hears a phone buzz, at one point, but he doesn't seem to even consider picking up. She hopes that's not Nux trying to reach him. She hopes the two of them aren't the problem.

She brings his drink over, puts it down in front of him. She's standing so close, now. He looks up at her. Deep set blue eyes looking pathetically sad, and she can't help herself. She leans down, kisses him. It's quick and chaste and she doesn't give him time to respond before pulling back. His hand hovers near her waist.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn't mean to, I-”

“It's okay,” he says, and he's staring at her with this kind of wonder.

It's a good kind of stare, she decides. Seems to have distracted him from his brooding for a moment. The phone buzzes again. It's coming from inside his jacket somewhere. She sits down on the other side of the table.

“Want to tell me what this,” she gestures in his general direction, “is all about?”

He looks down. Takes a sip of his drink. Makes a “huh” sort of noise. Which better be a good noise, because that's a damn good hot chocolate. 

“'S a club thing,” he tells her after a moment.

“Long as you're not implicating me in any more crimes you can elaborate,” she tells him, gives him an encouraging smile.

He winces and okay, that's not a great subject to bring up today, then. 

“I fucked up,” he says. “I fucked up everythin'.”

Capable remains quiet. Looks at him, encouraging him to continue.

“Think they might be throwin' me out.”

“Oh. Oh, I'm. Sorry to hear that.”

“No, you're not,” Slit says bitterly.

And okay, that's fair. She won't argue that. She would, in fact, prefer it if he and Nux were not in the club. But they know that. And she thinks they know why.

“How long have you been in the club?” she asks, changing the subject.

Slit squints at her.

“Since I was eight,” he says, and he appears to be completely serious.

Capable can't help giggling, she really can't. Slit looks pretty insulted at that.

“I'm sorry,” she says, catching her breath and trying to control herself. “I'm sorry. I'm just. Picturing tiny you and tiny Nux on regular size motorcycles. It's. Very, uh, amusing.”

He snarls at her and she stills, wary. His scars twitch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

She's quite grateful that he seems to genuinely regret it every time he scares her. Good sign. That he keeps sometimes scaring her? Less good sign.

“Sorry,” he says again, looking more sincere, like he's reading her mind.

“I understand, though,” she tells him. “Why it's- why it's so important to you.”

“Yeah,” he says, takes another sip of hot chocolate.

“How does an eight year old end up in an MC-club?” she asks.

“Foster system,” he says, and that should surprise her, but it absolutely doesn't.

“Me an' Nux,” he continues unprompted, “got placed with some guy in the club. Got himself killed. Ace took us in.”

“Shit,” Capable says sympathetically. “Sounds like a lot for kids that young.”

“It was.”

They sit in silence for a while, both lost in thought. Another customer comes in, and Capable jumps up to assist. Slit sort of reaches for her, but lets his arm fall heavily onto the table. She ignores it, helps the middle aged lady with some complicated approximation of a chai latte. Somehow, despite following her close instructions, Capable fails to concoct the tea to the woman's satisfaction. She demands Capable make a new one, talks about incompetent untrained workers the whole time. Her gaudy rings clink together. 

“It had better be right this time,” she says sternly.

Slit gets up, then, and Capable tries to communicate with her eyes that it's okay and could he please sit down again, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Walks up to the lady over whom he towers, glares at her. He looks pretty menacing, no denying that. The lady looks up, a look of faint horror crossing her face. She pays, and thanks Capable fearfully, hurrying out with her cup. Capable gives Slit a stern look.

“Please don't do that again,” she says.

He looks disappointed.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I appreciate the gesture,” she tells him, “but please don't intimidate the customers. We don't have that many.”

He looks guilty now. Promises he won't. Goes back to the table. And now she feels guilty. She really is far too nice to these stupid, violent boys. She follows him. 

“All those texts you're getting from Nux?” she asks, as he picks up his jacket.

“Probably.”

“You going to read them?”

“Eventually.”

She gives him a look.

“Yes,” he says, defeated.

“Good.”

He downs the rest of his hot chocolate, presses a way too large bill into her hand. She narrows her eyes at him, goes to the counter and gets his change. He tries to insist she keep it.

“No,” she says, “makes me feel like you're paying me to be nice.”

Slit makes a face.

“Didn't consider that. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know.”

“Thank you,” he says. “For listening, and things.”

“Any time,” she tells him with a smile.

He takes a step closer, and something in her chest is fluttering. She looks up into his eyes. Sees them flickering between her eyes and her lips.

“Can I?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She nods, not quite trusting her voice. He bends down, presses soft lips to hers. Gentle, calloused fingers on the side of her face. She mirrors this gesture, fingers trailing over cool metal and lumpy scar tissue. They draw back, both a little breathless. 

“I'll, uh, see you,” Slit says nervously.

“Yeah. Say, uh, tell Nux I said hi,” she says, voice equally unsure.

He quickly walks out. Capable doesn't move, just watches him. Jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Don't think that sweet little lizard'll hurt ya,” Dag says, and Capable has completely forgotten she's overheard everything.

“No,” she agrees. “I don't think so either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a 15 song playlist comprised entirely of The Mountain Goats, ranging from Estate Sale Sign and Werewolf Gimmick to Get Lonely and Standard Bitter Love Song #8. In case you were wondering. Edit: Nope. It's Standard Bitter Love Song #7 I was thinking of.
> 
> Also I'm not totally sure at what point I decided Toast and Dag were a thing, but it is firmly entrenched in the canon of my mind. Probably because they are my faves. One day I'll write something them-centred. If Toast is angry enough I can probably write her. I put all my writing skill points into angry characters.


	13. We Both Go Down Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what. I. Idk. It's fixed, if you're retrospectively reading this, I just shoved this into one chapter and it's slightly less violent. I feel like punching myself in the face, but to be honest that's kind of a constant state so whatever.

When Slit gets home, Nux is there waiting for him. This takes Slit a while to realise, because the first thing Nux does is headbutt him, hard. He stumbles, lands on his ass. He's stunned enough that he wonders briefly if some unknown enemy has invaded their home in a cunning plan to steal their meagre belongings. Nux's harsh voice corrects him quickly.

“What the fuck, Slit? Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck is goin' on?”

Slit rubs his head, sits up. Nux is standing over him, fists clenched. He doesn't look overly pleased.

“Been out,” Slit answers.

“No fuckin' shit. Did ya get any of my texts?”

“Probably,” Slit says carefully, squinting up at Nux, the lamp casting a harsh halo around his head.

“Jesus fucking christ, Slit,” Nux says.

He rolls his eyes, walks over to the sofa and slumps down. Slit deems the immediate threat of violence to be over, and joins him there, but far enough apart that they're not touching. He gets his phone out of his pocket. There are thirty unopened texts. He sighs. Nux's fingers brush Slit's hands.

“Manage to find someone to fight ya?”

“Yeah. Abandoned house. It didn't fight back too good.”

“Proud of you,” Nux says.

“It looks worse than me,” Slit agrees, although he's fairly sure he knows what Nux means.

He looks through the texts. The overwhelming majority are from Nux, asking where he is and what's going on with decreasing patience and politeness. There are two from Ace and one from Morsov. He clicks lockscreen on without opening them. 

“Need a moment,” he says when Nux nudges him.

Leans heavily back onto the sofa. He isn't ready for this. 

“What do I do?”

“Think you open your texts, mate.”

“I mean if they throw me out.”

He turns his head to look at Nux. He's got absolutely no clue what do to with his life outside it. There's never been an alternative. Never been a reason for him to wonder.

“I don't know,” Nux admits, looks down.

“What do we do? If they throw me out?” he asks. “What do you do?”

Nux looks uncomfortable. Slit doesn't blame him. Doesn't know what he would have said in his place.

“I mean, I'm pretty good, I could probably get a job at another garage,” Nux says eventually, reluctantly.

“You wouldn't have to leave 'cause of me,” Slit says, but he doesn't really mean it, wants to kiss Nux and tell him how much it means.

He doesn't, though. Just squeezes his shoulder, hopes that says what he wants it to. Nux looks at him with big worried eyes.

“Get it over with?”

Slit sighs.

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

He picks the phone up again, opens up the text from Morsov first. That's the least scary one, probably. Only it's not a text. And it actually is a threat. He thinks that's what the idiot means, anyway. It's two pictures. The first one's Morsov pointing two fingers at the camera, and in the second he's pointing two fingers at his own eyes. I'm watching you, but in the wrong order. What a fucking dickhead.

“What's that about?” Nux asks.

“No clue,” Slit says, which is, for once, true. 

Morsov has plenty of reasons to dislike him, because Slit treats him like the piece of human garbage he is, but he's never seemed to mind or even notice before.

“Weird,” Nux says.

“Yeah. He sayin' he's spying on me or somethin'?”

Nux shrugs. Urges Slit silently to open the texts from Ace. Puts a hand over his shoulder. Slit breathes in deep. It's just a text. It'll be good. It can only ruin like eighty percent of his life.

Ace: Need to talk.  
Ace: Tomorrow. Bring Nux. Noon. Citadel.

And, okay, that is pretty anticlimactic. But at least he's still safe, still good. Not thrown out yet. Who knows what might happen, he tells himself. He looks over at Nux, who is frowning suspiciously at the phone.

“Don't like this,” Nux says.

“Me either. But not a lot to do 'bout it till tomorrow,” he says.

Texts Ace an okay and clicks his phone shut. Tosses it onto the table. Everything feels jittery, like tiny needles of worry on his skin. Looks at Nux again to determine what mood he's in. Decides it's back down to friendly, and lets himself slide down till he's lying, sideways and uncomfortable, in Nux's lap.

“It'll be fine,” Nux tells him soothingly but without much conviction.

“Yeah?” Slit says, but Nux doesn't answer.

It's clear he's in deep shit. 

“Went to the Green Place today,” Slit says, five or twenty or fifty minutes later, he's not sure.

Nux groans.

“Hey!”

“Please tell me you didn't get in a fight there, Slit.”

“I'm not,” Slit begins, but trails off.

Nux is right. Dealing with things in healthy ways has never been Slit's strongest side.

“I didn't,” he says. “No violence of any kind.”

“Good.”

Slit had been excited to tell Nux, but now it doesn't feel right. He won't appreciate it right. And although Nux has every right to make Slit feel guilty, Slit can't help but resent it a little bit. So he'll keep what happened between him and Capable to himself for a little while. Just out of spite. A voice in his head, the voice of reason, which sounds an awful lot like Nux, tells him this isn't the way to go. But Slit's never been good at listening to the voice. He gets up, stretches. His neck aches.

“I'm goin' out,” he says, and is out the door before Nux can react.

-

The door slams closed and Nux sighs. Slit is difficult. Nux loves him, but he makes it hard at times. Gets so angry. Angry and resentful. Nux is used to it, but that doesn't make it easier or more pleasant to deal with. The way Slit will just leave, to go out and do whatever he has to do. Usually it's fighting someone. Going to a bar and pissing off some dickhead who probably deserves it. Get violent. Get beat up. Get drunk when he starts feeling guilty. Come home and sleep for too long.

It's not that Nux doesn't deal in self-destructive ways. He does, he knows. But more often it's over-working himself, and he can't help but feel like that's better. Less violent. He understands why Slit does what he does, but wishes he didn't have to. Slit wishes that too, Nux knows. He's never said anything about it, but Nux knows. 

Come back, he texts. For me. And that is a lot cheesier than it has to be, but he doesn't really feel like picking Slit up from the emergency room, or like dealing with his drunken attempts to explain why this was absolutely necessary. It bothers Slit that Nux thinks of him like that. Nux knows because Slit told him. Like someone who is inherently violent and awful. It's not the case. Nux knows. But he also knows Slit has to work pretty hard for it not to be. Sometimes he does. 

Nux has fallen asleep on the sofa, but wakes up when the door opens. He quickly looks Slit over. No obvious new bruises. That's good. Knuckles no bloodier than they were. Slit catches him checking. Narrows his eyes. Tosses his jacket onto the floor, steps out of his boots and walks into the bedroom. There's not a lot of room for solitary sulking in the flat. The room is too full, and the door doesn't even close properly. 

“Slit,” Nux says, but gets no answer.

He can be a sullen fucking child sometimes. Makes everything so complicated and difficult instead of just. It's tiring. But it's part of who he is, and Nux can't change it. Isn't even sure he wants to. Takes a deep breath and gets of the sofa. Stands in the doorway to the bedroom for a moment, casting a deliberate shadow. Slit's lying on his stomach, head and one shoulder at an odd angle to allow him to thumb through something on his phone. It looks uncomfortable, and so Nux joins him on the bed, lying half over his back to see what he's doing on his phone. This position is actively painful for both of them.

“What you doin'?” Nux asks.

“Fuck off,” Slit replies, but without any real malice.

Nux can see he's looking at jobs.

“That really necessary? What if Ace just wants to tell ya you've earned a couple days off?”

Slit huffs a laugh.

“That'd be nice. Now get the fuck off my back, you're heavy as shit.”

Nux obliges. Settles against the wall instead, legs crossed. Slit doesn't move.

“Find any good alternative careers yet?” Nux asks after a moment of silent scrolling.

“Nah. Half assed mechanical skills and unsuccessful smuggling ain't in great demand.”

“Shoulda become a better mechanic, then.”

“Fuck off, Nux,” Slit says, “Shit is this the kind of thing people go through if they don't find their job as adolescents? All the time? There's a job at a fucking shop requires a fucking masters what the shit's that about? What even is a people skill?”

“Nothin' you've got,” Nux says, and Slit turns around and half-heartedly kicks at him.

He misses with at least half a meter. But he looks less angry. Sort of. After the accident his face doesn't exactly lend itself to gentle expressions, and the scars and slightly impaired movement is only half the reason. Slit moves around again till he's on his back and his head is resting on Nux's thigh. He keeps scrolling through the ads, but none seem to be right.

“I never thought I'd need to do this,” he says.

“I know. Hope ya don't.”

“Mhmm. But I can't imagine what else is gonna happen. What else is that important, y'know? Unless they're gonna kill me.”

“Slit!”

“Yeah, I don't think Ace'd do that either. Soft old man.”

Nux wonders if he can stay in the club if they kick Slit out. Club's been such a huge part of his life since he was a child, but so has Slit. He told Slit he wouldn't, sort of. That was the implication, anyway, but he's not sure he can do it. Doesn't really want to think about it.

“Ya think I could make a good nurse?” Slit asks, holding his phone up to show the ad.

Nux laughs, and Slit looks mock insulted.

“You'd be amazing. If it was a hospice wantin' quick guest turnover,” Nux jokes.

“Says you, skullface. Put on a black robe an' you'd be just as bad,” Slit retorts.

“Asshole.”

“You love me.”

“An' I regret it every damn day,” Nux tells him fondly.

Slit hums in agreement, reaching a hand up to Nux's face, trying to pull him down into a kiss. Nux isn't having any of that, though, makes Slit actually sit up. Slit seems to feel this is cruel, going by the pathetically upset look in his eyes. Nux pulls him close, forehead to forehead, looks into his eyes. Slit tilts his face, kisses Nux, all sweet and soft, a hand coming to rest on the back of Nux's head. Pulls back a little, smiling wide like he's managed to forget all the bad shit that's happening. And Nux is sure he can feel his heart literally melting. The reason he puts up with all of Slit's shit, right there. That deeply buried sweetness shining through for a little while.

“Oh,” Slit exclaims, “Oh shit, I almost forgot to tell ya! Reason I mentioned the Green Place. Capable kissed me!”

“No! Really?” Nux says, and he's pretty sure his face mirrors Slit's right now.

“Yeah! Like outta the blue, it was great! And then let me kiss her once, bit later. Think I kept my cool okay but it was pretty damn great!”

“Yeah? Ah shit I can't believe she kissed you first what the shit,” Nux says, but he can't keep his face from the total and utter excitement he's feeling.

He leans in to kiss Slit again, as if trying to get a second hand version of the experience, as if trying to taste her. But it's not quite working because Slit is laughing into the kiss. Nux doesn't mind. Because right now, just in this moment, everything's okay.

\--

Everything is not okay. That much is clear. The sky is uncharacteristically dark, and heavy clouds hang in the sky like ill omens. There's a crow perched on a phone line, cawing at Slit in some code he doesn't understand. The dramatic setting feels too theatrical, like a set up. He doesn't like it. Leans back against the wall, fishes his phone out of his pocket and browses facebook, just for everything to feel normal and useless. He has fewer friends than last he checked.

“You good?” Nux asks.

“Yeah,” Slit lies. “You?”

Nux shrugs. A painfully honest no. They're both tense. Worried. Been waiting here for a few minutes. Ace is late to their meeting. Slit feels like it's going to be a sentencing. Taps impatient beats on his phone, accidentally liking one of Morsov's pictures. Fuck. Fuck. Whatever it can't matter. His scars itch. All of them.

The door doesn't creak when Ace opens it. There's no sudden thunder either. Just a light breeze making dust and minuscule debris twirl in the air.

“Hey. What's up?” Slit says, then immediately regrets it.

“Got some bad news,” Ace says.

“Don't fuckin' ease us into it,” Nux says under his breath.

Slit remains silent, brows furrowed in worry. His skin feels wrong.

“See, what's happened is someone's got hold of some important stuff. Won't go into what. But they've been holdin' it over the Boss. Pressin' down prices. Ain't good. And far as anyone can figure, whoever got that info got it breakin' into the Citadel.”

“Shit,” Slit says. “Shit.”

“Fuck,” Nux adds.

Ace nods.

“Yeah. But that ain't all.”

“What else even is there?” Slit asks, because he can't explicitly remember fucking up that much more.

“Someone's been watchin' ya real close,” Ace says, and pulls out his mobile.

“Morsov,” Slit and Nux say, and Ace looks surprised.

“Yeah, actually,” he says. “How'd you two find out?”

Slit shows him the images Morsov texted. Ace nods grimly, finds something on his own phone to show them. It's a grainy photo, taken in bad light, but it's recognizable. It's from the outdoor concert they went to, shot at the exact moment Slit kissed Nux. Morsov has helpfully circled the two in a clumsily drawn red line and added several exclamation points. In the photo Slit's hood has slid down, and the burning skull steering wheel on his neck is clearly visible. The one good thing is that Capable's not in it. Still, if Slit's knuckles weren't barely scabbed over he would punch the wall.

“I know you two are what you are, an' if Morsov had just sent this to me, that woulda been alright, I woulda made it go away. What goes on behind closed doors an' all. But he sent this to the imperators. All the imperators.”

Ace lets this sink in for a while. Slit feels numb. He's actually fucked up even worse than he thought. Which, given the situation, is quite impressive. He waits for Nux to explode, but it doesn't happen. He looks as numb as Slit feels. 

“I think,” Ace says, “it would be wise of ya to not wear those jackets for a while.”

-

“I'm sorry I'm so so sorry,” Slit tells Nux for probably the tenth time. “I thought we were good, I thought they were on the other side of the concert, I...”

Nux waves the apology away, like he's done the other ones. It's not like Slit to apologise, to acknowledge mistakes, and maybe that's why Nux seems to accept it. Because he's not yelling. Just frowning, eyes darting back and forth like he's trying to figure something out. It worries Slit. Quiet Nux is about to make a decision Slit's not going to like Nux. 

They're huddled around a small table in a bar. A pair of untouched beers stand in the centre, judging them. It's an out of the way place, not their type at all. This is deliberate.

Slit opens his mouth to speak, but Nux interrupts him.

“Please stop apologisin'. Ain't…”

Slit manages to stop himself from saying sorry. Just nods. Looks carefully at Nux. He has trouble reading him. Can't make out whether he's going to blow up in anger or is just too defeated to do anything, to react at all. Either way, Slit feels awful. Everything has gone as shit as it possibly could. More or less. At least Slit finally knows he's been right about Morsov all along. He wonders, though, why the text came last night, and not the night Morsov apparently spied on them. Maybe he just fucked up that too, really badly. Slit wouldn't put it past him.

Slit rubs the staples in his face absently, picks up his beer at last. It's hardly cool any more, and tastes like disappointment. He suspects most things will in the near future. Slit had thought it would be more dramatic, his life falling apart like this. But the world doesn't care. The clouds cleared and the sun peeked out while they were talking to Ace, and on the way to the bar there were just dumb pigeons nearly getting run over. The woman behind the bar is nodding her head to some cheerful song like this wasn't the worst day in the history of the of the world. Well, that's untrue. The day Nux got sick was much worse. Many days back then were worse. Fine, the worst day of their careers. 

“It's...” Slit begins, but he can't think of anything.

No point in reassuring Nux that everything's going to be fine when the worst thing has already happened. Slit looks down into the fake wood of the table. It holds no answers.

-

Nux has gone out, which is rare. Slit's usually the one to storm out when he can't deal with things. It's been a day, and everything still feels slightly surreal. Like it happened to someone else. But he's at home and their jackets are stuffed under the bed and he's looking at ideas for a cover up tattoo for his neck on his phone, so it must be real. He gets so angry, so filled with rage sometimes, over things that, in the grand scheme of things, don't matter. The bigger things, the ones he should rage about, those take time to sink in. This is taking longer than usual.

He wonders what's going down at the Citadel. Wonders how much anyone cares. Other than Morsov, who's probably bragging. Telling everyone about what a hero he is for exposing guys like Nux and Slit. Slit briefly considers beating Morsov to death, but he suspects Nux wouldn't appreciate that. He's not sure even that could be enough revenge, at any rate. Wouldn't last long enough. He's not sure what he's going to do, but this can't go unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so short but more is coming tomorrow. Or when it's more today. After some sleep. It's five am and my eyes hurt.


	14. Even More Excellent Coping Mechanisms.jpg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People trying to work out their problems in ways that are maybe not the most efficient ways that they can be done.

It's early when Capable wakes up. Around dawn. Everything is tinted a dark warm blue. She's not had a nightmare, not exactly, but she feels uneasy. She can't remember what she dreamt, but it makes her shudder. Makes her want to be somewhere else.

The bed on the other side of the small room is empty, which is weird. It's not like Toast to disappear off. Capable hurriedly dresses, grabs her phone off the night table. Walks out into the living room quietly. In the dim light from the street she can see Toast and Dag sleeping on the sofa. Toast's head is pressing into Dag's shoulder, their arms around each other and their legs entwined. Capable can't help but smile. The way Toast's hand is curled possessively around Dag's wrist. They look cold, though, so Capable finds a blanket, tucks it around them. Dag blinks sleepily, sees Capable and smiles before letting sleep take her again.

Capable is careful to close all the doors tightly. The machines that make the coffee are noisy. She reflects briefly, while the thing coughs espresso into her cup, that for a café called the Green Place, they really ought to stop using disposable cups. May Dag can design some nice graphics or something they can put on some of those thermos cups, some they can sell to regulars. 

The streets are quiet this time of night. Or morning. Whichever. Only the occasional delivery van breaking the silence. Gulls squawk overhead, fight over bits of garbage. Capable inhales the smell of coffee to cover the stink of the city. Walks on. She's not sure where she's going. It's an hour or two till she has to work, so she has time. 

She ends up walking through a park. She's not sure she's been here before, but it's nice. Trees heavy with dew, flowers drooping like they too resent the time of day. Birds congregate around an overfilled trash can. The sun has risen, and is casting a hazy, pale light over the trees. A little way ahead Capable sees what she assumes to be a homeless person lying on a bench. 

When she gets closer, though, she recognizes the pale face and shaved head. Nux's head is pillowed on an old newspaper. His clothes are filthy. She suspects things aren't going great. 

“Nux,” she says tentatively. “Nux, hey, wake up.”

Nux mumbles something in his sleep. Capable touches his shoulder, lightly shakes him till his eyes squint open. His face scrunches up like a question mark. 

“Capable?” he asks.

“It's me. Are you okay?”

“What… Yeah. Course. Why wouldn't I be?”

Capable just looks at him.

“You're… sleeping on a bench. Outside.”

“Needed some time alone,” Nux says, trying to shrug.

He rubs his eyes and sits up. Shuffles to the side to make room for Capable. She sits down next to him. Looks at the dark circles under his eyes. Something bad is definitely going on.

“Nux, what's going on with you?”

Nux looks down, doesn't say anything.

“Is it about the club?”

Nux's face twitches, which she takes to be a yes. 

“What happened?”

“Tossed us out,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry,” she says, puts a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Lots of stuff. Most of it's not even our fault, not really. Just fuckin' unfair coincidences,” he says, sighs.

She watches him, waits for him to continue. He stares at the ground for a moment.

“Some of it's club business, an' that's. It ain't fair but I get it, ya know? Club's losing money, kick out the guy that coulda theoretically stopped it goin' wrong. Woulda been unfair an' shit, but I'd've understood. Slit too, I think. Woulda been so fuckin' mad, but he woulda got it. But that ain't enough. You remember at the concert, Slit kissing me, yeah?”

Capable definitely remembers. That had been… Unexpected, but nice. Somehow she thinks seeing the two of them like that, just being with each other, was what had made her make peace with liking them. Knowing that okay, they were big and scary, but clearly also great together. Clearly capable -haha- of sweetness. Nux is looking at her, and she nods, maybe slightly more enthusiastically than the situation calls for.

“Yeah, well, that was a bad idea. This guy from the club, this fuckin' asshole, apparently he was spyin' on us there. Took a picture of that. Sent it to all the bosses. They weren't pleased.”

“Don't worry,” he adds at her alarmed expression, “You weren't in it.”

“Not why I'm worried,” Capable says with a slightly frantic edge to her voice.

“I just. Are you guys okay?”

Nux shrugs, gestures at himself and their surroundings.

“Slit's… actually not taking it too bad,” Nux says, “Not sure if he's still in shock or just had more time to get used to the idea.”

“He seemed pretty upset the other day. Having fights with inanimate objects. Being more threatening than usual.”

“Not to me!” she adds when Nux looks at her all worried. “To a rude customer.”

“Yeah,” Nux says, relaxing. “Yeah, I've been. Tryin' to get him to not get into bar fights or whatever whenever somethin' goes wrong. Fight somethin' doesn't fight back. Tried talkin' him into joinin' a gym or somethin', put anger into workin' out, but somehow he took that as an insult.”

Capable laughs.

“I can imagine. But it's good he's listening, right?”

“Yeah. I guess. I'm… Kind of havin' a hard time not blamin' him a little. I know! I know, it's terrible, it's not actually his fault, not really, but...”

“Having a hard time processing it emotionally?” Capable supplies.

Nux frowns at her.

“I guess. Somethin' like that. Hard bein' around him, anyway. Hence, ya know, this. Here.”

“I understand how you feel, but I can't help feeling there could have been slightly better ways to be alone for a while?”

Nux shrugs.

“Wouldn't be as self destructive. Be less effective.”

Capable makes a noise like she understands, but the noise is a lie. She gets that doing stupid dangerous things can help, but this just seems inconvenient and unpleasant. But if it helps she's not going to argue. She checks her phone.

“Listen,” she tells Nux, “I've got to get to work. But if you want you can come hang out? There's wifi and, upside to being tossed out, you can't be banned anymore.”

Nux's eyes still look a bit distant, but there's a hint of a smile when he looks at her.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good,” he says.

-

Cheedo's sharing her shift today. She's getting ready when the two of them walk in. She looks surprised, but not a trace of fear, thankfully. Nux gives her a kind smile, and settles at the table closest to the door. 

“What's going on?” Cheedo asks when she and Capable are in the back room.

“He's very sad and he hasn't got anywhere else to go,” Capable says, looks at Cheedo, hoping she'll understand. “But if he makes you uncomfortable, I'll tell him to leave.”

“It's fine,” Cheedo says. “Are you and him dating?”

And Capable is more taken aback by the question than she has any right to be. She frowns. They did, technically, go on one date, so

“I… I'm not quite sure?” She says at last, to Cheedo's increasing confusion.

“He is kind of cute, I guess, in a scary way,” Cheedo says, looking into the café proper.

“Cheedo no,” Capable says firmly.

“Hey, I didn't mean it like that,” Cheedo tells her, only a bit defensively, and it hits Capable again just how young she is.

Still got that teenage indignant thing going on. It makes Capable want to hug her and tell her to dye her hair an outrageous colour and to tell everyone that they just _don't understand_. It's beautiful. She smiles kindly, assures Cheedo that she knows. Cheedo looks suspicious, but shrugs, and they get to work.

 

Nux ends up staying there for most of Capable's shift. It's another fairly busy day, and she only occasionally catches his eye, gives him an encouraging smile. He spends his time looking at his phone and making awkward eye contact with the customers who walk in. Mostly this is amusing. Some of the more well off people in the neighbourhood, who, clearly, have heard about the reason the Green Place was started, and, charitably, want to support them as customers, wrinkle their nose in distaste. Look at his obviously intentional facial scarring, his mud stained jeans and the three empty mugs sitting on his table like he's personally offended them. Nux smiles at them, emphasising his scarred lips. It's pretty amusing. She has one half hearted complaint, and she dutifully says she'll let her boss know. 

It's been maybe three hours when Slit shows up. He doesn't seem to expect Nux to be there, and Capable can see about a dozen emotions crawl across his face as they notice each other. Slit walks up, and they look at each other for a moment, not speaking. Slit brushes a hand over Nux's shoulder, then walks up to the counter. Capable sees Nux's hand reach up in a delayed reaction.

“Is he okay?” Slit asks urgently, voice low enough that Nux won't overhear. “Ain't seen him since last night.”

“I'm not sure,” Capable answers truthfully. “I found him sleeping on a bench this morning.”

“Shit,” Slit says, runs a hand over his bristly head.

“He told me what happened. Or some of it, anyway.” 

“Yeah?” Slit asks, worried.

“Why you got kicked out. Or at least why it's him too.”

“Yeah,” Slit says, looks down.

“Did he… Did he say anythin' more about… About why he was there?” Slit asks.

“Only that he needed to be alone, and apparently a bench was the only good option,” Capable tells him.

Slit looks like a kicked puppy. A scarred up huge terrifying kicked puppy, but still. He clearly feels absolutely terrible about what happened, whatever it was, however much of it is his fault. Capable grabs his hand, interrupting it from the nervous tapping of fingers on the counter, holds it in her own much smaller one. He looks at their hands, up at her.

“You two need to talk, clearly, but you've gotta let him have space. Let him come talk to you when he feels like he can, okay? Whe-”

“Hey! Lady, I've been in line for five minutes! Do your drama on your own damn time!”

There's some guy, some middle aged white dude in a suit yelling, because of course it is. Slit tenses, almost turns to the guy. She can feel his hand curl into a fist, see his scars twist. But he just gives her hand a quick squeeze, walks over to Nux. He is learning surprisingly fast, she thinks. She watches him exchange a few quick words with Nux while she helps the unhappy customer. He leaves Nux staring into his coffee cup.

When Nux gets up to leave, Capable leaves Cheedo in charge of the customers. There's a group of school boys, Cheedo's age or thereabouts, and she suspects Cheedo doesn't mind too much. At any rate she's three meters away at most.

“Hey,” she says. “You and Slit good?”

Nux shrugs, doesn't meet her eye. Fiddles with his phone.

“You two need to figure it out, okay?” she says, grabbing his wrist.

He looks at her then, huge blue eyes staring down at into hers and- And you know what? She's just gonna go for it. She reaches her free hand up to pull his face down to hers, presses her lips to his, and her heart is a frantic drum beat. The scars feel strange against her lips, but not unpleasant. She can feel his free hand hover by her shoulder, not quite daring to touch. She wants to deepen the kiss, but apparently the teenagers in the café have noticed, because there's someone whistling and laughter. She wonders whether they would have dared if it were Slit instead of Nux. At any rate she pulls away, looks sternly at Nux to try to communicate that really he really needs to talk to Slit, and he looks kind of awestruck and it's very sweet. He gives her this absolutely endearing smile that makes her feel like he's going to try.

After he leaves, Cheedo, predictably, spends the rest of their shift trying to talk to her about it, and Capable keeps smiling to herself and refuses to say anything. She still has no idea what they're actually doing, whether she's somehow intruding on the two guys. If she is, though, it seems to be because they want her to. At least she's kissed both of them, and that doesn't really clarify anything, but she's glad she's done it anyway. They were nice kisses. 

-

She wakes up at dawn again the next morning, her head filled with visions of clawing hands and darkness. She can feel them on her in the dark and she can't stay here, can't sleep again. She gets up like last morning. Toast is in her own bed, today. Capable wonders briefly if this is significant, shrugs. Sneaks downstairs and has a fight with the espresso machine, which seems to think she wants the coffee spattered all over her nice beige sweater and not in her cup. She wrangles it into submission at last, though.

She repeats her route from the morning before. Partially, she admits to herself, because she's worried that Nux is still on the bench. She walks fast in the dawning light, to keep warm. Walks into the park again, walks a slightly different route to avoid the stack of garbage bags, not yet picked up, where fat rats feast on rotting leftovers. 

She deliberately worries about the guys, putting the sneaking memories in her own head away, locking them up in a mental box. It only half works. 

When she rounds the corner of some tall decorative plants she sees Slit sprawled on a bench, limbs hanging over the edges, snoring gently.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Capable says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Can you imagine being a guy and being able to sleep in a park without worrying about anything other than getting mugged? Amazing.  
> -I don't know why there are so many birds doing things. Is it a plot point or do I just like birds? More at seven. (seriously I read through this whole fic -it's so long?? It took me like an hour?? Wth??- and there are birds in like every chapter that's not exclusively indoors)  
> -I took a break in the middle of writing this and spent like half an hour of said break looking at pictures of Josh Helman and crying and I don't even know why but clearly that is who I am now. Fuck. I mean I think there was a context but I have no memory of what it was.  
> -Cape's arc is coming, sort of, but for it to work right she needs to be. The situation's got to change. I'm aware she kind of feels like supporting cast, but her role will grow.


	15. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouted along to Mountain Goats songs in an increasing state of alcohol-filledness most of the time I spent writing that sex scene, and so my friend if you would like to completely ruin the mood feel free to imagine that.

Slit walks into the flat, looking as awful as he feels. A bird shat on his jeans while he slept, and he thinks it rained at some point, because his clothes are wet and clinging uncomfortably to everything. He's pretty sure he smells awful, and he needs to shower and find something dry to wear. 

“Hey,” says, voice low and careful.

Nux looks up from where he's draped lazily over the sofa. He looks better.

“Hey.”

“Just. Just comin' in to shower. Can leave after,” he says, leaning down and plugging his dead phone into a charger.

“No, no. I'll. Stay here, Slit,” Nux says, but it sounds reluctant. 

Slit looks at him for a moment. Wishes he could take back all the shit he's fucked up, undo it. Because Nux deserves everything. Deserves all the best things in the world, and Slit can't make that happen, and that is some goddamn fucking bullshit. He picks up a towel off the bedroom floor, sniffs it, shrugs, and goes into the bathroom. Peels off his clothes and tosses them on the improvised dirty laundry pile that is the floor. Starts the water, waits the half minute it takes to get it right, then steps into the hot spray. Leans on the comparatively cool tiles.

All he does is disappoint Nux. Fuck up. It's bad enough he ruined his own life, but ruining Nux's too? That's too much. More proof that Slit's just a useless piece of shit, that he fucks up so bad it ruins everything. Even Nux is seeing that, now. He blames Slit, and that's completely fair. It hurts, but it's fair. He doesn't deserve Nux's forgiveness. Nux has always been too easy to let him off the hook, to forgive and forget. Slit can't do that. Can't accept others' fuck ups so easy. Not unless it's Nux, but Nux very rarely does anything that would demand Slit's forgiveness. It's time, he supposes, that Nux gets to be angry one. He's certainly got the right. 

The water starts to cool, eventually. Slit doesn't feel better, but at least he smells less awful, and that's not nothing. Dries himself off. Feels odd, somehow, walking through the flat naked to find new clothes when they're fighting. At least he thinks they are. It's confusing, and he hates it. He wraps the towel round his waist, all proper. Walks out, air chill on his skin, doesn't look at Nux. Ducks into the bedroom, roots around for something sort of clean. The piles of of mostly black clothes that cover the floor and the foot end of the bed isn't helpful. He feels eyes on him, turns. Nux is standing in the doorway, looking at him, face unreadable.

“I'm angry,” he tells Slit.

“Yeah? Yeah, course you are. Ain't right what went down. An' look. I get that ya hate me for it. I… I do too. But I don't know how to fix it,” Slit says, not meeting Nux's gaze.

He slumps down onto the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, stares at Nux's hands. They twitch with tension, maybe anger.

“I don't hate you, you dumb piece of shit,” Nux tells him. 

Slit raises his eyebrows, looks up, fixes his gaze a little below Nux's eyes.

“You should,” he says.

“Slit, come on, you're being unfair. It's hard, yeah? For both of us. I don't know what to do.”

“Yeah,” Slit says, “me either. But you've, y'know, got every right to hate me. For everythin'.”

“Ain't your fault Morsov's a sneaky piece of shit or that people choose to break in just when you're the one on duty.”

“Me who felt like I needed to kiss ya in public, just to make a point. Was stupid. I shoulda known better.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough, but it's on Morsov for being enough of a dick to send that picture to the higher ups.”

Nux sighs, sits down on the bed, a couple inches away from Slit. Mirrors his pose. Slit's skin is getting cold, sitting here undressed.

“It's on the club for bein' bigoted pieces of shit,” Nux says after a while and that's.

They've never really said that. Never really blamed that on the club before. Both been aware of it, of course. But growing up in that environment, being used to it… It's not like they blamed themselves, thought they were all wrong. It was just an inconvenience. That they had to be all secret about it. Ace warned them, that one time. Told them to be careful, because a lot of the guys have been around a long time, and that's not the kind of thing they approve of. 

“Yeah?” Slit says, and hates how hopeful he sounds.

“Yeah,” Nux confirms. “I mean, it was careless of ya. Ain't denying that. But it's shit that we have to be careful, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Slit says. “Kinda fucked up. Least that's one less thing to worry 'bout now.”

“True. Can go places an' be disgustingly touchy feely,” Nux says, and Slit can hear the tentative smile on his voice.

“Sounds like a plan,” he replies, and this feels better, Nux feels better.

Slit tilts his head to look at him, and Nux is looking right back, and leans over and gently bumps his forehead to Slit's. His hand comes up, rests on the back of Slit's neck.

“I don't deserve ya,” Slit says.

“Damn right,” Nux replies with a smirk, “but you're just that lucky.”

“I know,” Slit says, and it comes out more sincere than he planned.

Nux's smirk melts into something gentler. Puts a hand on Slit's back, stroking along the complicated scars running down his spine, makes him shiver. Slit turns, pushes Nux down onto the bed, moving so he's lying half over him. Nux lets him, a hand absently running up and down Slit's arm, over raised scars. Slit looks down at him, questions on his face. Is this okay? Are we doing this? Are we good? Why are you wearing so many clothes?

“Yeah,” Nux says, and that answers most of them.

Slit leans down, kisses him deep, free hand cupping Nux's face. Licks and bites into the kiss, then laughs into it when he realises Nux has taken the opportunity to pull the towel off him. Pulls away to plant open mouthed kisses down Nux's neck. Nux shoves him away, but only long enough to pull his t-shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. Smirks up at Slit, and that can't be tolerated, so Slit kisses the smirk away roughly, reaching a hand down to stroke Nux through his jeans. Nux makes an almost startled pleased noise.

Slit moves down lower, pressing kisses to Nux's scarred chest while his hand fumbles blindly with Nux's belt. Nux's hand strokes over his head, through the bristly hair that he hasn't shaved for too long. Slit fumbles on for a second, gives a frustrated groan, sits up and puts all his concentration into getting Nux out of his remaining clothes. Nux laughs at him, and Slit growls in annoyance. Nux smirks, barely deigns to lift his hips to let Slit pull his jeans off. 

“Lazy fucker,” Slit complains half heartedly, moves up so he can kiss Nux again.

Nux doesn't seem too insulted, because his tongue is in Slit's mouth, tasting the scars there, one of his hands grabbing Slit's ass. Slit moves so he's on top of Nux, but Nux isn't interested in that, flips them over, straddles Slit's hips. Reaches under a pillow, fumbling around and almost falling on top of Slit till he extracts a small tube. Slit crosses his arms beneath his head, smirks up at Nux, who seems to feel he's got this.

Nux opens the tube, letting liquid dribble onto his fingers, a bit too much, because he's too busy looking at Slit to pay attention to details. Locks eyes with Slit as he reaches down, grabs Slit's cock with cool, slick fingers. Slit hisses at the cold, at the contact. Nux's fingers drag languidly up and down, too slow, and keeping his hips still is a challenge. 

“Nux,” he pleads and it sounds choked and weak.

Nux releases his cock, and okay, that's not exactly what he hoped for. But Nux is pouring more lube onto his fingers, and reaching to open himself up. His face is flushed and his eyes fluttering shut and Slit is definitely not complaining. Watches the work of art that is Nux as he gets himself ready. Grabs eagerly at Nux's hips, pulls him closer.

“C'mon.”

And Nux obliges, positions himself over Slit, sinking slowly onto Slit's cock and it's so so hot and tight and intense. Slit's hips twitch up, but Nux is in charge, Nux is driving, and he waits a moment before moving. Places hands on Slit's chest over scars and patterns and the metal holding it all together and rolls his hips. Slit will, if confronted, deny ever making that noise he makes then, because it's highly undignified. 

Nux sets a rhythm, too slow for Slit's taste. He grabs Nux's cock, strokes it, tries to hurry Nux along, and he seems to take the hint. Slit grabs his hips with his free hand, Thrusts up into Nux hard and fast. Nux is biting his lips, face screwed up in concentration or pleasure or both. Slit looks up at him, can't quite understand how he got this lucky. Nux's fingers twitch, grab at Slit. He grabs at Nux's shoulder, stilling him. Responds to Nux's look of confusion by flipping them over. Thrusts into Nux hard, leans down to kiss him. 

Nux's hands are clawing at Slit's back, leaving marks in the patches of unscarred skin. Slit speeds up, a hand on Nux's cock, but he's too uncoordinated to do more than one thing. Nux seems to realise, thrusts into it shakily. Slit presses hurried sloppy kisses to Nux's neck, his face, wherever he can reach. His hips stutter, and unbidden images of long red hair and sleek curves come into Slit's mind, and that, he explains to an amused Nux later, is why he's got such a confused frown on his face when he comes. 

Nux is a little behind, nudges Slit's now slack hand out of the way, thrusts into his own hand, makes a face Slit wants as a giant oil painting hanging on the living room wall as he comes, inner muscles squeezing tight around Slit. He lets himself collapse onto Nux, and they lie there, sated, breathing heavily. 

Nux lifts his head, presses a kiss to Slit's head and asks him to get his heavy fucking carcass off, because he can't breathe. Slit groans. Pulls out of Nux, settles against his side, face pressed into his neck. The air is cold against sweat and cum covered skin, and Nux takes responsibility, pulls sheets over them. Slit throws an arm around Nux, holds him close. Enjoys the rough texture of scars against the soft skin on the inside of his arm. Murmurs a soft declaration of love into the scars in the crook of Nux's neck, kissing the two smiling faces there.

“We're not...” Nux says after minutes or hours. “We're not completely good yet. But we're pretty close.”

“Anythin' I can do to help hurry that along?” Slit asks, kissing the soft skin behind Nux's ear.

Nux huffs in amusement.

“Not how it works.”

“I know,” Slit says.

He kisses Nux's jaw.

“I know I can't just fuck sense into ya,” and he somehow keeps a straight face saying that, but Nux laughs, shaking against Slit.

“But you try,” Nux says, “and that's the important part.”

Slit grins ferally into Nux's shoulder. Nux laughs, turns his head, rubs his jaw against Slit's forehead fondly, because that's what the position allows. His skin is warm against Slit's. They don't move much, except to huddle even closer as it gets colder. 

“We should try to get Capable in on this,” Nux says, at some point.

“Yeah? Yeah. Yeah we should. Think she'd be into that?” Slit asks.

“I hope so,” Nux says. “Eventually maybe. I like her.”

“Shocking,” Slit says, then “Me too. And her too, I think? Want to try to, I don't know, ask her out again?”

Nux nods. 

“When we get our lives sorted out,” he suggests.

“What in a fuckin' year? Think she'll have given up by then,” Slit says.

Nux concedes that okay, that is a far point. Turns to face Slit, kisses his forehead.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is slightly more important to me that the sex shows, you know, character and things than that it's good porn, if that makes sense, but I hope it can be both. But guys, I would like to point out, this is still the like, third sex scene I have written in my entire life, and so, if it is terrible and very unsexy, then that is why and I am sorry.


	16. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast & Furiosa

Later that week Furiosa purposefully strides into the café. She looks stern. She usually does.

“Everything good?” she asks brusquely, waiting for a nod of confirmation before heading up to the flat above. 

Capable sends Cheedo up. Clears the last of the tables quickly, hangs the closed sign in the door, and locks it. Hangs her apron over a chair.

The others are seated already, around the low table. Furiosa in the one armchair, the others on the sofa. Capable sits on the armrest, makes an apologetic sort of noise. Furiosa nods that it's fine it's all good.

“Café going good?” she asks.

“Stars are aligned right, but the spirit's all wrong,” Dag says.

“It's getting better,” Toast says at the same time, snaking an arm around Dag's back where they sit pressed together, “more customers, people becoming regulars, we're losing less these last weeks.”

“Think the word's spreading,” Capable chimes in, “people who seem like they've heard coming in.”

“Feel like they're being Good People, but we're not complaining-”

“Can feel them look down on us, just a tiny bit-”

“Won't stop us taking their money-”

“Tip well, but it feels cold-”

Furiosa holds up her hand, her flesh one, gently shushing them. Her prosthetic rests in her lap. It's a self made one this time. 3D printed in garish colours, painted a warm grey. It's got all kinds of neat functions, Capable knows. She remembers watching the instructions online over Furiosa's shoulder, helping her negotiate the language. It's ugly and inelegant, built for function and not form.

“It's better then. You haven't had any trouble?”

Furiosa involves herself little in the day to day running of the Green Place, but she comes in every other week or so to check in. Keep an eye on how they are doing things. It's still a flat structure, the four sisters running it as they please, but Furiosa's the one with legal and economic responsibility. That's what she she says, anyway, but the sisters all know she's mostly there to make sure they are alright. It's sweet, Capable thinks. 

“No trouble,” Dag confirms, but Toast is side eyeing Capable.

It doesn't escape Furiosa's notice.

“What?” she asks.

“ _Someone_ ,” Toast says, “keeps hanging around those biker guys.”

Capable looks at her, betrayal on her face. Furiosa sighs. Leans forward in her chair, looks Capable in the eye.

“I told you to stay away from them,” she says, voice even, face neutral.

“Took it under advisement,” Capable says, shrugging. “Anyway, they're not really bikers any more.”

Furiosa closes her eyes briefly. Capable doesn't let it phase her. Glances over at Toast who, to her credit, doesn't look particularly pleased. Not that she shows, at any rate.

“They're bad guys. They're not safe. I've had dealings with these people.”

“So I've heard,” Capable says, feeling childish and spiteful, “heard you gave one of them a good beating.”

Furiosa narrows her eyes a fraction, but doesn't question it. Which, Capable assumes, means it's true.

“I'm safe, I'm being safe,” she adds, guiltily.

She's not being convincing enough, that's clear. Toast has crossed her arms. Furiosa is hard to read, which isn't a good sign. Capable feels ashamed, and then ashamed at her shame. She is free to do what she wants, that's the whole point of the Green Place, right? She should be free to make mistakes if she chooses. But that's not the point, is it? They're all just worried about her. She forces herself to think about that, focus on the good worry, the concern. They do have every right. She ducks her head.

“You should stay away from them,” Furiosa tells her, but Capable can hear the resignation in her voice and feels bad.

“I'll…” She says, “I'll try. I will, I mean. You're right.”

She doesn't sound convincing, but it's a gesture, a peace offering. Furiosa seems to accept it as such. Moves on, discusses the finances with Toast, the only one of them with an interest and the head for it. Dag draws invisible patterns into the skin of Toast's arm. Cheedo is on her phone, looks distracted. Capable doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the- the what? Meeting? She supposes that's what it is. Informal, with half finished mugs of tea on the table.

Furiosa doesn't stay long when she's made sure everything's in order. She's not social. Cares for the girls, but she doesn't like to hang around. Capable wonders whether it's because she's scared of getting too attached, but that doesn't make much sense. Perhaps this is just how she relates to everyone. Caring, but from a distance. Capable knows she has been through a lot, but is unclear on what, exactly, it was.

When her shift is over Capable curls up on her bed. Finds the crumpled piece of ripped paper she stuffed under her mattress for reasons she doesn't care to explore. Enters the number into her phone. Debates with herself over phrasing, then sends a text.

Capable: Hey. It's Capable. You guys doing better?

She makes sure the phone's on silent, clicks it shut. Shoves it under the pillow to keep herself from checking and picks up her book. It's a French feminist essay in book form, meandering and autobiographical in nature, and while it's interesting it doesn't hold her attention. She lasts about seven minutes without checking her phone. Nothing. 

Slit and Nux have been distant after their date. Despite both having come into the café, despite both staying there at length, despite her kissing them both. She supposes they have a lot on their minds, doesn't envy them the sudden insecurity. She knows the feeling. Still, she can't help but feel peripheral to them. Which makes sense, which she is. She gets the feeling they've been together ages. 

She feels her phone vibrate, eagerly clicks it open, but it's just a facebook notification, encouraging her to check in. It's more disappointing than it should be, and she shoves the phone back under her pillow, tries to concentrate on the book again.

It's several hours before they reply. She's on the couch next to Dag, half heartedly watching some show she hasn't kept up with. The characters seem flat to her, but Dag, bless her heart, loves it. Calls it beautiful and a work of art. Capable feels the phone buzz insistently in her pocket, tries to resist the urge to look. Be cool. Let it wait a couple of minutes. That lasts all of thirty seconds, and she fishes it out, opens the text. 

Nux/Slit: R good. Better. Want to meet up?

Capable forces herself to put the phone down. Concentrates on the show for as long as she can. Which, it turns out, is about ten minutes. She glances over at Dag, who is smiling in amusement.

“Shut up,” Capable mumbles.

Capable: Sure. When/where?

There's a few minutes before her phone makes any sound again. Her fingers tap impatiently on the armrest. 

Nux/Slit: 2day good?

They text like teenagers. It's equal parts embarrassing and endearing. She replies with a thumbs up emoji. It's past sunset, but she's not working till three in the afternoon tomorrow. She's got all the time in the world. She feels a twinge of guilt remembering her half hearted promise to Furiosa. Ignores it.

Nux/Slit: Outside in 10

Capable: kk

She feels nervous. Wonders whether she looks okay. Considering the guys look like they've been sleeping outside most of the time it's probably not hard to beat them, but still. She idly collects her hair in a long braid.

“That your biker boys?” Dag asks gently.

Capable nods.

“Luring you out into the dark and frightful night?”

“I suppose, yeah.”

“Good. Have fun,” Dag says, winking.

Capable makes a face, giggles. 

“I'll try.”

She gives Dag's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, hurries into her room to check she looks okay. Decides that she does, but adds a warm sweater and a jacket. She suspect bikes might be involved at some point, and that they might not have heated seats.

When she walks down the stairs through the now dark and empty café, the pavement outside is empty. She wonders if she misunderstood. Walks out and closes the door softly behind her. Looks back and forth, and there, half a block away they are, next to their parked bikes. They haven't noticed her, it seems. Are talking about something. She appreciates that they thought not to come roaring up to the entrance, not to be too obvious about their arrival. 

“Hi,” she says, as she walks up.

Their faces both kind of light up, and it makes her feel fluttery. They look better now. Probably that's from sleeping inside. She notices they're both letting their hair grow back, or at least haven't bothered to shave their head in a little while. It's a slightly softer look, and she likes it.

“Hey,” they both say at almost exactly the same time.

“Good to see you two talking again,” she says.

They exchange slightly awkward glances, and she makes an I'm sorry face. Maybe they're not quite bounced back yet. It's not even been a full week. 

“Anyway,” she says, but doesn't really have anything to follow it up with. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see,” Nux says cryptically.

There's a crate attached to his bike, so she gets on the back of Slit's. They've thoughtfully brought her a helmet this time. She appreciates it, because while donating your organs is a good and decent thing to do, she would prefer not to have to for a good long while. 

She clings tight to Slit as they drive. Partly this is out of nervousness, because they're going very fast and there's no walls and not enough wheels and she's not sure she's entirely on board with this concept. A lot of the reason, though, is because Slit is quite nice to cling to. All broad shoulders and warmth radiating even through layers of clothes. Makes the hurtling along the road feel a bit safer. 

They drive for a while. The stars sparkle dully above, striving to shine through the light pollution. Get clearer as they leave the city centre behind. Capable feels like she should probably be worried that they've not told her where they're going, that they seem to be headed far from the safety of other people. She finds she doesn't mind. Trusts these guys. And that's kind of liberating. To feel that she doesn't have to fight to let herself believe wholeheartedly that they mean her no harm. This, Toast and Furiosa would say, is a Bad Sign. But Capable can't believe that. Not really. Can't quite let go of her faith in humanity, in the ability to come back from the bad, despite all that's happened to her and her sisters. The therapist calls it resilience, says it's a good thing. Her sister would call her reckless, and has done so repeatedly.

They come to a halt off the highway. The sky is so bright with stars here. Nux grabs the crate thing off his bike. They walk a little way away from the road, so they're not so close to where insects are bright pinpricks in the glow of the street lamps. She can see more constellations than she can name. She thinks maybe that's why they are out here, and that's surprisingly romantic. Wouldn't have have expected it of them, but it's nice. It's just cool enough that she suspect huddling close for warmth will be necessary at some point, and maybe that's part of their plan too. She doesn't mind.

Nux opens the crate thing, gets out a blanket. Capable makes an impressed noise and Slit laughs. Nux puts it down, gets thermoses out, and cups. It's so unexpectedly sweet and she can feel her face do the same scrunched up expression it does when she looks at puppies. They sit down.

“I'm pretty impressed with you guys for fixing this in what, like twenty minutes?” She says.

“Yeah? Thanks!” Nux says eagerly, and Slit huffs in amusement.

“This fuckin' nerd's had it planned out for days,” he says.

Nux grimaces at him while he pours steaming coffee into mismatched plastic mugs. The guys are on either side of her, they sit in a triangle formation. Capable waves away a mosquito that hasn't understood that summer's long gone. Accepts a mug from Nux. The coffee is absolutely terrible, but it's warm and the gesture is nice. 

“It's really nice,” she tells them. 

“Been a little worried about you two,” she admits. “You seemed, you know, pretty out of it last I saw you.”

“Got better,” Slit says, sipping his coffee and grimacing. “Nux what is this shit? It's fuckin' awful.”

Nux shrugs defensively.

“'S all we had.”

“It's fine,” Capable reassures him.

Slit snorts, clearly not convinced.

“Anyway,” Nux says, “It's better now. We're better. Got things sorted out, more or less. Just gotta, ya know, figure out what to do with the entire rest of our lives.”

“That can't be easy,” Capable says, flicking a bug from the edge of her cup. 

“'S not. Never not had a job before. Never had to look for one. Ain't been outta the club since we were old enough to know what it was,” Nux says, and looks up at the stars.

Slit is looking down into his cup, frowning. Capable puts a hand on his shoulder. Looks up at the stars too.

“I'd offer to see if we could get you shifts at the Green Place,” Capable says, “But I doubt the boss would like it, and judging by this,” she indicates the coffee, “I'm not sure you'd be qualified.”

She means it as a joke, but she's not sure her tone gets that across.

“I'd no idea how complicated that shit is,” Slit says. “If I hadn't just left a life of crime it woulda led me into one.”

Capable laughs, can see Nux smiling.

“But I'm not, I mean,” Slit follows up, voice unsure, turning so he's facing her.

Looks very serious. Worried eyes under heavy brows. Clearly still feels bad. 

“I know,” she says. “you'll find something good to do. Bit less badass maybe, but I think your face'll make up for that.”

His scars twitch into a smile. He shifts a bit closer, so he's sitting next to her. They clack their plastic mugs together and pour the cooling, disgusting coffee into the grass. Nux makes an insulted noise, pointedly forcing himself to drink his own. Sets his mug down and crosses his arms over his chest. Tries to move subtly closer. It sweet and dumb and after a few moments Capable just grabs his sleeve and pulls him close. Feels both comfortable and all nervously excited at the same time.

“Anythin' exciting happen in the Green Place?” Nux asks.

“Not much,” Capable tells him. “Furiosa told me to stay away from you again today.”

“Not great at listenin', are ya?” Slit says.

“I've been told I'm too trusting and, and I quote, _have zero fucking survival instincts_.”

“Sounds about right,” Slit smirks, and she smacks his arm lightly.

“Probably true, though,” Capable admits, frowning.

“Nah,” Nux says, “Not the same thing.”

“Can't go round thinkin' everyone's bad. Leaves ya all alone. Although, distrusting us, at least before, that's maybe not the worst idea.”

Slit looks like he wants to argue, but remains silent. Stares at the empty cup as he turns it over in his hands. Nux looks hesitant.

“You're right,” she says. “But it's too late now.”

The boys look at her in confusion.

“I mean if you wanted to make me disappear in whatever way this would be the perfect opportunity.”

She's not sure why she keeps saying these things. Partly, she supposes, it's to remind them of what they are, or appear to be. What it's like for her. She can tell they feel guilty by their kicked puppy faces and nervous shuffles. 

“Sorry,” she adds. “Sorry. I just. I worry that I'm trusting you to easily? That I'm not worried enough.”

“Nah,” Slit says, “'S good. Sensible.”

“Yeah,” Nux says.

“Heard some stuff,” Slit says, but amends, “googled some stuff, I guess. 'Bout the Green Place. Was no specifics,” he reassures her when he sees her face, “just enough to, ya know, make it clear you've got good reasons for worryin'.”

Capable's not sure how to feel about that. She knew there was some element of charity in the funding of the Green Place, that Furiosa had had help, and she supposes it's only logical that there was some mention of that online. Still. Isn't something she is that comfortable with the boys knowing.

“Sorry,” Slit says. 

He does look genuinely sorry, but she can tell he's confused too. Doesn't quite understand why it upsets her. 

“Yeah,” Capable says, “Yeah, no. It's okay. Just not, you know, something I want to talk about. Or think about. Ever.”

Slit puts a tentative hand on hers. Nux places a hand on her shoulder. A small part of her feels too crowded, but most of her thinks it's nice. Accepts the comfort and sympathy offered. Understands and acknowledges that they won't automatically understand what's okay, that it's on her to communicate that. Which is true the other way around too, of course. She doesn't know them that well yet. And clearly they've been through some Bad Shit too. She hopes they'll figure it out. Give each other time and space to do that. She really wants that, she realises. Not just in a oh hey these guys are pretty hot and seem to like her way, but something more, somehow. 

It's getting cold out, now. Been dark a while. In the distance she can see the stuttering flicker of bats in the light of the street lamps. She shivers, and Nux and Slit both instinctively puts an arm around her. It takes her a moment to relax into it, but it's very nice when she does. Looks at their faces in the faint starlight. Feels a warmth inside that not just to do with sitting so close. Feels good. Feels like hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a literal ball of cheese.  
> Trying hard to hit that sweet spot between slightly scary asshole and very large puppy that despite fangs and claws is still a puppy. And between I'm gonna like & trust these guys but I'm also wary I have Been Through Shit Before.  
> I like the idea of Furiosa making custom prosthetics. Rents a 3D printer, has different tools she can attach and everything. But I also really like the idea of her being not familiar enough with internet culture or language to need Capable or someone to help her. And so that is a thing that definitely happened in this universe.  
> (morning after edit: do not edit at four am after being awake for 24 hours this is very ineffective)


	17. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh.

Capable blinks her eyes open, not yet awake enough to focus. Something's not quite right. Her bed is hard and it's colder than it's supposed to be. Her sheets seem to be malfunctioning, because parts of her are very cold. She blinks her eyes again until the world swims into focus. Nux's face is maybe two inches from hers. He seems to be asleep. Oh. She twists her head, sees that the warm weight against her waist is Slit's arm.

It's just before dawn, light starting to creep into the sky. She remembers at one point lying down to let herself look at the stars all relaxed. Doesn't remember falling asleep, but that must have been what happened. Nux and Slit curling around her for warmth. She can feel Slit's breath against the back of her head, the heat of him against her back. This was definitely not her plan for the night, but she finds it is quite nice, despite how stiff and painful it's going to be getting up. Despite how cold the parts of her not pressed up against the boys are.

She looks back at Nux, sees his eyes flutter open. They really are lovely. Such an intense blue. They make him look very innocent, despite the scars.

“Hey,” he whispers, frowning. “You're… Not Slit.”

“No,” she confirms, smiling in amusement, “I'm not.”

“Oh,” he says, eyes going wide. “Oh.”

“I think we fell asleep,” she supplies.

“Yeah. Yeah, musta.”

He cranes his neck, sees Slit behind Capable. He seems to be fast asleep still.

“What is it with you guys and sleeping outside?” Capable asks.

Nux shrugs, and she feels the movement against her. It's hard not to be very aware of how close the three of them are. It's distracting. So distracting, in fact, that it takes her completely by surprise when Nux's lips are suddenly on hers. It's a careful, tentative kiss, and so Capable takes it upon herself to deepen it. Extracts an arm from under Slit's to stroke along Nux's jaw. They both have less than fresh and minty morning breath, but neither of them mind. She licks at Nux's lips till he opens his mouth, and oh, oh yes, this is good.

Nux kisses surprisingly gently. Pulls back a little to look at her, make sure that yes, she wants this. And she does. She really really does. Strokes a finger down the scar on his cheekbone, over his now slightly swollen lips, skin catching on rough scar tissue. His eyes are looking into hers with a strange look that feels almost like adoration. She wonders if he looks at Slit like this. Probably. She thinks she will, too. Look at the both of them a bit like that, because she's starting to realise she's fallen so much further for them than she ever meant to. 

“Mgnfn,” Slit mumbles into her hair, and the arm around her twitches sleepily.

The fond smile on Nux's face as he reaches a hand down to brush over Slit's is very sweet. She's not sure, not just now, how anyone can look at these guys like threats. Not like this, anyway. Slit nuzzles into her hair, then stills, as if realising she's not Nux. 

“Wass… Nux, where?” he asks.

“Still outside,” Nux replies.

“Oh,” Slit says.

He seems to realise Capable is there too, because the arm slung over her tenses. He doesn't move it, though. She turns so he's lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows so she can look at both of them. Slit looks at her face, at Nux's, does the math apparently, because he grins wide.

“What'd I miss?”

Capable leans over, plants a soft kiss on his lips. When she pulls back he follows, an inch or two.

“Should wake up earlier,” he says.

“Mhmm,” Nux agrees.

“Should we get out of here?” Capable asks. “I don't know about you two, but lovely as this is it's also pretty, you know,” she taps the ground, “uncomfortable.”

And they get up, and Nux gathers their stuff. Capable checks her phone which through some divine intervention still has a little battery left. There are four missed calls, one slightly worried text from Dag and five quite angry ones from Toast. She winces. She forgot. Or didn't realise or whichever. Sends a quick text to both letting them know she's fine, she just forgot the time, she'll be home in not too long.

“You good?”

Slit is watching her worried guilty defiant face.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, just. Missed a few calls. Got some worried sisters. Wanna get breakfast somewhere on the way back? I need some time before going to the Green Place, I think.”

“Yeah,” he says, puts a large hand briefly on her shoulder. “Good idea.”

 

Capable watches the sun rise from the back of Slit's bike. It's beautiful, striking, and it makes her eyes water. Her clothes are slightly damp, from dew or cold or whatever, and the wind chills her to the bone. She's holding on to Slit tightly, hands locked and buried in the fabric of his hoodie for warmth. His stomach muscles are tense, twitching whenever her hands move, and she wonders whether he's nervous or just self-conscious.

They find a café that's open at this ungodly hour. Get coffees and sandwiches and find a secluded table. 

“I'm sorry,” Nux says, for no apparent reason, after finishing his coffee.

Capable and Slit both raise their eyebrows in question.

“That we make everyone worry about ya,” he elaborates.

“Not your fault,” she says, but amends, “actually, it's a little bit your fault. But they'd worry anyway. No matter who you were. Don't worry about it, at any rate. I feel...” 

She pauses for a minutes, swirls the dregs in her cup around throughtfully.

“I feel safe with you two. Whatever that says about my judgement, whatever that even means.”

Nux smiles hopefully. She thinks Slit does too, but honestly, his face is a little hard to read.

 

They drive her to the Green Place. Stop a half block from the entrance, just like the night before. It's nearing nine in the morning, now. The café will be open. Toast and Cheedo will be on duty. Downside of living above the café is there's no possible way to sneak in without anyone noticing. Not that she wants to be all sneaky, no, but she would quite like to avoid the confrontation for a little while longer. She knows everything they'll say. That Toast will be angry and Cheedo worried and Dag tentatively supportive but distant. She knows they mean so well, they really really do, and she loves them for it, but… No. She's not in the mood for it right now. But that's not important.

She gets off the bike, removes the helmet. Leans down and kisses Slit, deeper now, mouths open, tongues tasting each other, her thumbs stroking up the mismatched jagged scars on either side of his mouth. One of his hands is on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. He makes a needy sound when she pulls away, looking up at her with pathetically pleading eyes. She looks at him, a hand lingering over staples glinting in the morning sun, moves to Nux, kisses him too, just as deep. When she pulls back, steps a little away, Slit is looking at them, grinning wide. 

“You two have a good day, okay? Good luck with, you know, getting your lives up and running a bit more,” she tells them, not waiting for their answers to walk away towards the Green Place.

She hears them bicker good naturedly about which of them she kissed the longest, and grins to herself. It's hard to feel too guilty. She takes a deep breath, tugs open the door. The bell rings in greeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is. Very short. Could only do one tiny little scene. More soon probably.  
> I am totally stressing out about like, future elements. Of my life, not this fic. But when I get shit sorted out I'm sure I'll write something more coherent.  
> These guys really need to get better at the whole sleeping inside thing.


	18. Fight me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capable has made a huge mistake

Slit wakes up to Nux breathing softly into his neck. He's got an arm slung over Slit's stomach, skin catching on staples when he wriggles in his sleep. It's warm and nice and right, but Slit still can't help but feel it it could be better. Realises that he kind of wants to wake up to Capable in their bed, too. If that is something she wants, of course. He hopes it is.

After they brought her to the concert he looked her up. Or, well, that's not quite true. He still doesn't know what her last name is, and googling 'Capable' is exceptionally unhelpful. It would have been a bit weird, at any rate. But he went onto the website for the Green Place. It's a terrible website. Looks like it was designed in 2005 by a fifty year old. It took him five whole minutes just to figure out where the opening hours were listed. He's got to talk to her about that. But what was prominently placed on the site was a bunch of sponsor logos. And most of those were various charities for victims of domestic abuse and sexual violence. The short about section explained the Green Place's mission statement. Although none of this is specific or mentions any of the women working there, the implication is clear. 

So it's not surprising that Capable's sisters worry about her. Slit's looked in a mirror, he's aware of the effect he has on people. Nux too, but to a lesser degree. They do not look nice. You could probably argue that they aren't. The fact that there are two of them likely makes it much, much worse. He can see the power dynamic there, what it looks like. And it bothers him. So much of his life being scary has been useful, a good thing. He's good at intimidating people. But he doesn't really know how not to. How to put that down.

“Y'look thoughtful,” Nux mutters against his neck. “Wass on yer mind?”

He stretches lazily, flops down onto Slit so his head's resting on Slit's chest and his eyes are looking up into Slit's.

“Nothin',” Slit says. “Stuff.”

“Mhmm?” Nux asks, but Slit isn't quite in the mood to talk about this.

Not with Nux, not now. Makes him uncomfortable, and he can think of better things to focus on, like how the sheets have half slid off Nux's ass, and how nice the weight (too light, still too light) of Nux is on top of him.

“C'm'ere,” he says, pulls Nux up into a kiss.

Nux scrambles to keep his balance, almost knees Slit in the crotch, and Slit has to hold him up to keep the human disaster from hurting them both. Nux looks slightly insulted when Slit pulls away, but accepts it. Leans on his elbows on Slit's chest, and that's quite close to painful, but Slit's not about to admit that. Just looks at sleepy lidded eyes staring back at him. Strains to lean his forehead far enough to bump it against Nux, but the angle's all wrong. Nux laughs at him, shows mercy, leans closer. Slit holds him there, eyes so close he can't focus on them, warm breath mingling. Fuck, he loves this dumb piece of shit.

He tilts his head a little, presses his lips to Nux's, makes a high pitched sound when Nux bites down on his lower lip a little too sharp, just enough to draw blood. Runs a hand down Nux's spine, making him shiver. Grabs his ass, ragged nails digging into skin. Nux squeaks at that, and it's such an undignified and pathetic sound that Slit just collapses into laughter.

“Jesus, Nux.”

“Hey!”

Nux sits up, straddling Slit's hips, and crosses his arms, looking deeply wounded. Slit runs careful apologetic hands up his thighs and sides, over the branded engine, grabs Nux's hands and tugs them close to kiss his knuckles in apology. 

“Fuckin' nerd,” he mutters, which, possibly, ruins the effect.

He pulls at Nux till he's lying on top of him again, kisses his dumb forehead. Nux retaliates, pressing wet kisses along Slit's scars, down his jaw. A hand stroking over the intricate scars on Slit's arms, a thigh rubbing against Slit's cock, slightly painful, mostly good. Slit grabs at Nux, holds him close for a moment, forehead pressed to forehead, both breathing heavily. It's a close to perfect moment, and so they're both annoyed when Nux's phone starts beeping loudly.

“Shit, sorry, I gotta,” Nux says, scrambles till he's lying half off the bed, rooting through discarded clothes till he finds it.

“Yeah yeah,” Slit says.

“Want me there earlier,” Nux says.

“How early?”

“An hour from now. I gotta get up,” Nux says apologetically.

“Ain't fair, I gotta get off,” Slit says.

Nux laughs.

“Join me in the shower, then, I hafta hurry.”

Shower sex is complicated. There's a lot of balance involved, some elements of yoga. And there's the timing, making sure everyone's happy and clean before the water turns to ice. There's awkward moments, like when one of them actually drops a bar of soap, and the spray of water getting in their eyes, blinding them for a moment. Still, Slit thinks, it's not bad. Not when he gets to see Nux's flushed face, water running down it, screwed up and adorable as he comes. Or leaning against each other in the hot spray of water after, neither quite trusting themselves to stay upright. 

Nux is going to talk to a place about a mechanic job. How he's managed that is beyond Slit, who is still left confused and disappointed whenever her looks at jobs. Nux, apparently knows a guy. Slit asked why he knew people Slit didn't know, but apparently that was a dumb question, because Nux just looked at him in that slightly disappointed way that makes Slit feel like shit. So Slit spends an hour or two laying on the sofa and watching TV. He's not bothered to actually put on clothes, just a towel. Keeps checking his phone. He's not even sure what for, but he can't focus on anything.

Around noon he decides it's enough. He'll do something useful. Something productive. He's going to make Capable's sisters not dislike him. Or he's going to try, at any rate. He finds some of his least threatening clothes, resits the urge to shave his head. It's almost getting long enough that it'll start curling. He's been shaving it for so long he barely remembers how it looks, but he vaguely remembers disliking it. Still, he suspects the more intense skin head look isn't the way to go for this purpose.

He leaves Razor Cola outside their building, because beautiful as she is, the bike's not going to help his I'm not a scary biker any more vibe. It's probably half an hour's walk to the Green Place from here, but he needs time to plan out what's he's going to say, anyway. 

The planning doesn't get far. Ten minutes away from the flat he sees something, someone familiar. A shaven head and a tattoo that matches his own. He stops, watches. It's one of the newer guys, one of the ones whose name Slit hadn't bothered to learn out of spite. Slit half hides behind a news stand, pretending to browse headlines while he sneaks looks at the guy. He's talking to another biker looking guy, but this dude's not a war boy. Slit can't quite make out the logo on the guy's jacket, but it's vaguely familiar, and it's not one of their allies. Weird.

The two guys start walking, in the opposite direction of where Slit is, and he follows them, trying to be as inconspicuous as he can. Which isn't very. Almost everyone he walks past stare at his face, then quickly pretend they didn't, pointedly looking somewhere else. Slit is forever cursed to be easy to pick out in a police line up. He walks slow, tries to seem like just a normal guy, walking along like he's got some purpose in life, not like he's following anyone. Stealth really isn't his thing. Intimidating people, beating them up, sure. That he can do. But following someone without them noticing? Well. And so it's this inexperience that leads him to follow them into an alley.

“Ah shit,” he says, realising his mistake about half a second before a fist connects with his face.

There's three guys and theoretically Slit should be able to take them all. But they're sneaky fucking bastards, because he can't focus on all three, and while he lands a punch to one's throat, another kicks at the backs of his knees, and a third's got a knife, and somehow it all goes to shit. He doesn't know what they want or how far they're going to go, but luckily he doesn't get the chance to find out, because a police car's driving past the alley real slow, and these guys aren't taking any chances. They leave him good and bruised, though, with a couple cuts he probably really needs to have someone look at.

He lies, wheezing, on the ground for a while, because anything else is too much effort. He took a good couple kicks to his ribs, and while he doesn't think there's any serious damage, everything hurts. There's a seagull sat on the edge of a dumpster near him, looking down at him judgementally. He sneers at it, but it doesn't seem bothered. Drags himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. It smells like garbage and piss, but he's not in any shape to get up, not just yet. He checks the time. Considers texting Nux what happened, but he's still at the other garage. Slit can't screw this up for him. They need at least one of them working. Actually that's not true, they absolutely need them both to be working, because rent's coming up and they haven't exactly got a lot of savings. A life of crime hasn't been very lucrative so far. At any rate, contacting Nux is out of the question. So.

Forty five minutes later he limps out into the street proper. He doesn't have the money to spare to get a taxi, so it's going to be a long walk back. One of his ankles is swollen and hurts whenever he steps on it. It's slow going, and he's got to stop every half block or so to rest for a few seconds.

“Slit?”

He turns his head, and in the process discovers that it hurts too.

“Slit jesus christ what's happened to you?!”

Capable is crossing the street. She's all anger and worry, and he appreciates that. She's got a heavy looking tote bag slung over her shoulder, her hair in a long braid that whips behind her as she half jogs towards him.

“Hey,” he says, and tries to smile, but the punch to the face did something to the staples lodged there, and moving that part of his face hurts.

She stops in front of him, quickly cataloguing his injuries. 

“You're going to a doctor,” she tells him.

“Nah, I'll be fine,” he protests, “just need to rest for a bit.”

“Your arm's bleeding and you look like shit,” she says.

“Really. I've had worse,” he says, and smiles, example and reassurance. “'Ll be fine, just need to get home an' not move ever again.”

Capable swears under her breath, and Slit's pretty sure he catches something about dumb fucking reckless war boys, but he ignores that. 

“Where's home?” she asks.

“Just a couple blocks that way,” he tells her, indicating the direction with a nod.

She puts his arm over her shoulder, supporting him, and they head, incredibly slowly, towards the flat.

“What happened to you?” she asks, when she's helped him up the stairs and he's fumbling with his keys.

“Someone tried to mug me,” he lies.

“Nope,” she shakes her head, “no one would mug you, christ, I'm not stupid. This was some gang thing, wasn't it?”

He waits till they're inside and safe from curious neighbours before nodding. Capable sighs, runs a hand through her hair.

“Not sure what it was about,” he says, “not guys who seem like they'd work together. Only one War Boy. Seemed pretty angry.”

“I can see that,” she says gently, guiding him over to the sofa.

He sits down heavily, and wishes that he had spent his morning trying to make the place look less disastrous. Or at least picked his wet towel off the floor. 

“You got anything to clean those cuts with?” she asks, and he explains where the first aid kit is when she puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him trying to get it himself.

She sits down next to him, tactfully choosing not to comment on the fact that there are dirty socks on the coffee table and a mug with something that's mostly mould on the floor. He pulls of his sweatshirt off so she can get to the cut on his upper arm. It goes right through one of the scarifications, and he sighs. That one had been on of the better ones. Nux had made it.

Capable dabs at the cut, cleaning it. It's large enough that it probably should be stitch up, but small enough that it'll probably be okay either way. Checks the other, smaller cuts, cleans those too. Picks a tiny shard of broken glass out of one.

“I wasn't tryin',” he says.

“Trying what?” Capable asks, clearly confused.

“Wasn't tryin' to get into a fight. Just wanted to see why a war boy would be talkin' to someone I'm pretty sure we weren't good with last time I checked. Didn't think they'd attack me. Was stupid.”

“Yes,” she says, “it was.”

She kisses his cheek, one of the small bits of it that's not scar tissue, so he can feel it properly. It makes his insides all warm.

“But frankly, at this point, I'm not expecting anything else.”


	19. Part 5 (or Do Not Fight Me I Take It Back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Just fluff. For once.

Slit expects Capable to leave right away, but she doesn't.

“I don't trust you not to run out and try to fight someone else,” she says.

Which is fair because Slit would, he really would want to. Beat the guys up right back. But he honestly doesn't think he would manage, not right away. He's not going to complain, though, because Capable is sitting right there, right next to him where Nux usually sits and that's oddly exciting. She's doing something on her phone, idly twirling the end of her long braid. Her hair really is like fire in the ray of sunlight sneaking in through the window. 

“Sorry,” she says, putting her phone down. “Just letting my sisters know where I am.”

“Sure that ain't gonna make 'em worry more?”

She shrugs.

“Maybe. But I'm pretty sure you're in too bad shape to be any real threat,” she says with a half smile.

“Hey! I could be threatening, I coul- ouch, fuck,” he says, as his ribs violently protest his attempt to turn around.

He eases himself carefully back till he's somewhat comfortable, Capable smiling in amusement the whole time.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine. Harmless.”

“Good.”

She leans back next to him, and they watch dust particles dance in the sun for a moment. 

“Ya think they'll stop worryin'?” he asks, wincing as he turns his head to look at her.

She frowns, thinks it over.

“In general? No. About you and Nux? Maybe? Eventually? I mean, I think Dag quite likes you. Claims she can read your intentions in your auras. Not sure what that means, but it seems to be okay.”

“Is that even what auras are supposed to do?”

Capable shrugs again.

“No clue. Cheedo thinks Nux is pretty, but a bit scary.”

“Both true,” Slit agrees.

“-But she thinks you're just terrifying.”

“Perceptive girl.”

“Yeah? That doesn't bother you?”

“Ain't had any illusions about bein' pretty since my face almost fell off,” he says, not quite meeting her gaze. 

“Hey,” she says, reaching up to cup his face in her small hand, thumb stroking over scars, “this is a nice face, okay? Bit broken, but healed. And fuck, look at your jawline, that thing is impressive. And there's shiny metal things. Know how much people pay to get those?”

He laughs, ignoring the stinging in his ribs. Capable grins. Doesn't remove her hand.

“Anyway, that's not quite what I meant.”

“I know. But it's all tied up. An' I'm pretty used to scaring people without tryin' to. Kinda comes with the job.”

“Not so much any more, though, right?”

“No,” he agrees, “I guess not.”

“I'm sorry,” she says. “I know that's hard for you. And I know me being, well, not exactly unhappy about it is kind of, I don't know. I know it doesn't help.”

He nods. 

“'S true. But I get it, I do. Nothin' wrong with that. Probably better than if ya didn't.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. 'S not a good place, y'know, not really. I'm startin' to get that. But it's been my whole life, right, and so it's not… Easy.”

He frowns, not sure how to phrase it. Not sure when it was he realised this. Not completely sure he had, until now. Whether it was Capable that made it happen or if he was just slow. Maybe both. And he wonders whether Nux agrees. He probably does, he tends to get things like that quicker than Slit. Tends to be better at stuff like that. At most things, really. 

“I think,” she begins tentatively, “it's a good thing you're beginning to think so. I mean, growing up in an environment like that… I don't think it's good. I think it probably fucks with you quite a bit. With how you see the world and things.”

She looks sort of worried. He's unsure why. Afraid of offending? Scared he'll react violently? No, he thinks not. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

He's looking at her and can't think of anything to say. And she's looking right back, with a concerned frown. Slight squint, because the sun is in her eyes, making them sparkle. Her lips are parted, and he can't quite keep his eyes of them. Capable notices, he thinks, because she leans forward, just an inch or two, and he takes this as invitation. Closes the gap between them.

Her lips are soft and sweet and taste like some mildly unpleasant chap stick. He tangles a hand in her hair, holding her close. She licks into his mouth, deepens the kiss, a hand on his face that glides down his neck, over his chest, and- And she pulls away, frowning again. 

“How covered in scars _are_ you?” she asks.

He doesn't answer, just lifts up his t-shirt to reveal the extensive patterns and images he's carved into his stomach. Capable exhales audibly. Runs fingers lightly over the raised scars. 

“Wow,” she breathes.

“That's what I like to hear when I take my clothes off,” he says with a grin, and she laughs.

“Is that a car crash?” she asks, tracing what is, in fact, a car crash.

He nods.

“I love the cute little sun,” she says, which is not okay.

“'S not cute,” he says, “'s a whirling vortex of light an' heat.”

“But a cute burning vortex,” she insists, and okay, whatever, she can have that.

Her fingers brush over the three long, stapled shut gashes in his side.

“Wasn't aware stapling injuries shut was so common,” she says.

“Guy in club who patched me up. Used to be a medic or somethin'. Claimed it'd be fine. An' it is. Mostly. Looks pretty badass, at any rate.”

“And that's what's important?”

“Always.”

Her hand is still resting on his scars when the door opens, and Nux walks in, and drops a bag of tools onto the floor, and then seems very startled when he sees them. 

“...What's happenin'?” he asks.

“Uh,” they both reply, look at each other then back to Nux.

“I found Slit,” Capable says. “Had to, uh, help him home.”

“Slit, why d'you look like you've been beat up? Did ya try an' k-” he pauses, looks at Capable, backtracks, “d'you try to fight Morsov?”

“Ya really think that asshole could do this to me?” Slit asks, deeply insulted.

Nux runs a hand over his bristly head and sighs. Walks over and sits on the armrest of the sofa next to Slit. Pokes at his bruises in distaste, ignoring Slit's grunts of pain.

“Guess not. What happened?”

“Not sure. Buncha guys, all from different gangs. One War Boy. One of the new guys. I just tried seein' what they were up to, but they didn't seem to like that.”

“Weird,” Nux says, rolling his eyes. 

“Wait. Ya found him after, yeah?” he asks Capable, looking concerned.

“Yeah, no worries. Saw him limping uselessly on the street.”

“I was walkin' fine,” Slit grumbles.

“At the pace of a pensioner missing a hip,” Capable retorts.

Nux snickers at the image, one of his knees knocking into Slit's ribs. Slit grimaces, tries not to make a noise. What's a couple bruised ribs anyway, he's got what? Over twenty of the suckers, who needs that many?

“Sorry, mate,” Nux says, puts a hand on Slit's shoulder.

Looks at Slit all tenderly.

“We gotta figure that shit out, though,” he says.

“Yeah,” Slit agrees, “But I think I need a couple hours before I'm good to chase down bad guys. Badder guys. Whatever.”

Nux and Capable exchange sceptical looks.

“Think maybe more like a couple days,” Nux tells him, consolingly patting his head.

Slit makes a dissatisfied sound.

“Ya think Ace'd say if he knew anythin', if we asked?” 

“Maybe,” Nux says, frowning. “But I think we need to wait a few more days till we try. They know our history. Expect that.”

“True. So wait till I'm even more at my best and strongest than usual, then try, yeah?”

“Heh. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

There's a pause, then. No one quite sure what to say. Nux looking like he's finally noticing, properly noticing, that Capable's there. He tries to subtly kick some of the mess under the sofa, but things clank against each other loudly, and he winces. Everyone looks uncomfortable.

“How'd the interview thing go?” Slit asks when the silence becomes too awkward.

“Good, I think,” Nux says quickly, looking relieved. “They want to test how it goes for a week. See if I'm as good as I claim.”

“Are you?” Capable asks innocently.

“Course I am. More than, even. I was very humble.”

Slit snickers and Nux shoves him hard, having forgotten about his bruised ribs. Apologises when he sees Slit's reaction. Slit waves it away, claims he's fine, but the others don't seem to believe him.

“'M good, I swear,” he tells them, “Point is. Yeah. No. Nux ain't bad. Definitely not bad.”

Which is pretty close to a compliment, he thinks. Close enough. Don't want to spoil the man. And Nux knows the praise for what it is, grins wide, looking like a very happy skull.

“I'd trust you with my car if I had one,” Capable tells him.

She's sitting sideways, one arm on the back of the sofa just by Slit's shoulder, and she keeps moving so she's touching him and it's very distracting. Her knees bump into his thighs and there are bruises there but shit he is not going to tell her to stop. His bruises can take it. Grow stronger from it. At least for a while yet. 

They sit there talking for a good while. Mostly it's Nux trying to explain cars to Capable, who looks enthusiastic and interested and slightly overwhelmed. Slit jumps in from time to time, explaining what Nux skips over, reminding him to take a chance to breathe and occasionally suggesting that maybe Capable isn't quite _as_ stoked about cars as they are. Just maybe. And then Capable squeezes his shoulder gratefully, but, for some unfathomable reason, asks Nux to continue.

After a while, Slit, out of compassion for Capable, and also for his stomach because he forgot to eat breakfast, suggests they get take out and watch Netflix. Preferably something not about cars, at which Nux pouts, but agrees. He goes out to find some food. Capable, who, luckily, seems to have nothing better to do (something he finds hard to believe, but he's not one to question his luck too hard), helps him hook the TV up for it, as he still doesn't really feel like moving unless he absolutely have to.

She gets back on the sofa, sitting next to him, so close their thighs and arms are touching and he puts an arm around her shoulders and she scoots a tiny bit closer and it's comfortable and exciting at the same time. They scroll through films debating. Slit and Nux, perhaps not surprisingly, like action. Capable wants something with minimal violence.

“There's enough bad stuff in the world already,” she says. “I don't need to see made up violence too.”

Slit thinks this over.

“That is a fair point,” he supposes at last.

“Nothing with too much violence, okay? Nothing with violence against women,” and the last bit comes out a tiny bit shaky.

Slit presses a kiss against the fabric of her cardigan stretched over her shoulder and promises that there definitely won't be any. They'll watch something they all like. Even if it takes them hours to decide. And a lot of checking imdb warnings. 

They're still scrolling through films when Nux gets back, bringing gifts of food and drink. He's gotten some thai thing that Slit can't pronounce, but it's delicious, so that's not important. Nux sits on the other end of the sofa and there's not really room for three people but that just makes it all cuddly and none of them mind. They end up watching Alien.

“How is that non-violent?” Slit asks, but Capable shrugs and makes the excellent counter-argument Ripley, and, Slit has to admit, that is a damn good point.

They strategically finish their food before any aliens burst through John Hurt's chest. Sip warming beers and talk over each other. They've all seen it before, but none of them mind. Nux briefly suggested they watch the fourth instalment instead, but was quickly shot down, his argument that it is a beautiful blend of French surrealist aesthetics with extraterrestrial action voted down and ridiculed mercilessly. 

Nux puts an arm round Capable's shoulder too, partly to save space. Slit's not sure it's even particularly comfortable for Capable at this point, but she doesn't say anything, so she'll probably live. He presses occasional kisses to Nux's knuckles, and Nux does the same. The food cartons lay discarded on the floor, and their legs are all entwined more for closeness than comfort on the coffee table. 

“How long d'you think we'd survive fighting one of them?” Nux asks as the alien stalks unseen.

“Not long,” Slit says, then clarifies, “not me, anyway. I'd probably try an' fight it. An' I don't think that'd go great.”

“I think I'd probably hide,” Capable says, “because there's nooo way I'm facing that thing. I mean, ideally I'd hide in an escape pod, but yeah. Killed after the more aggressive people,” she concludes and looks at Slit.

He grins wide in response, and she leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek and thanks him for dying first. Nux is about to divulge his plan, which Slit suspects includes driving the space ship, because when does it not? But he gets distracted by the cat. Which, in fairness, is a pretty cool cat. Surprisingly good at fighting aliens. Or at least at evading them, which is probably even more useful.

As the credits roll and Netflix gently suggests that they might enjoy Aliens too, Capable yawns. Says she should probably get home. At which both Slit and Nux pout, but then, remembering contexts, stop. They offer to walk her home. She accepts Nux's offer, because the others both think Slit won't really be able to. Which is just not true. But after them watching in amusement as he spends two minutes getting off the sofa, ribs screaming, cuts reopening and staining his t-shirt red, he says that fine, okay, maybe an hours brisk walk isn't the best thing right now. 

Capable gives him a quick and careful hug goodbye, and he holds her close just long enough to kiss her quickly, and she sort of blushes and it's absolutely adorable and his heart is doing some funny motion he can't define. Nux darts over to kiss him, too, and it's kind of overwhelming and Slit loves it but also feels like he needs to lie down and try not to breathe too hard for a while. Which he does when they leave.

He can really not quite believe his luck. Granted it's heavily mediated by every other aspect of his life going to shit, but he can't quite focus on that. It's distant, something to be dealt with in the morning. For now he'll just lie, very very still, and focus on the angry butterflies fighting a war with angrier moths in his stomach and not the slightly worrying pain when he breathes.

This is still what he's doing when Nux gets back an hour or so later. He wanders around doing stuff for a while, Slit's not really paying attention, but eventually he slides into bed next to Slit, and then awkwardly clambers over him to get to his own side. He nuzzles his face into Slit's neck and asks him how he's feeling.

“'Bout the same as when I realised I like you. In, you know, the way I do.”

“Every way?” 

Slit huffs in amusement.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm. Me too. It's. It's kinda weird, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Slit agrees, “Didn't really expect it. Not to. Not about not you.”

“Aww, softie,” Nux teases.

Slit growls, but the anger's all fluff. 

“Me either,” Nux says after a moment, “it's not the same but? Y'know. Somethin' like it?”

Slit nods. Nux presses a kiss to his cheek, and that's too soft a note to fall asleep on, so Slit grabs his face, kisses him till their lips are bruised and his nails have dug sharp red crescents into Nux's face and neck. Nux slips an arm over Slit's stomach, avoiding bruises and cuts as best he can. Stroking the scars there till Slit's breathing evens out and there's nothing but comforting darkness and the heat of Nux against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so.... I meant to write this yesterday but that didn't happen. Then I meant to finish it twelve hours ago but that also didn't happen. And now it's half past four am and I am a human disaster.  
> (I kind of wanted them to watch Resurrection because I love that piece of shit film to pieces (Fight me) but to be honest it's statistically unlikely to find three people who genuinely enjoy it in the same room nevermind a relationship. Flirtationship, whatever.)  
> (Also clearly the boys are a terrible influence on Capable because she's swearing more than she used to)


	20. It Ain't So Bad Any More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are had.

Slit spends the next week healing. It's horrible. Nux is spending all his time working, and Slit's grateful for that, he really is. They need it. But it's lonely. He and Nux have always been together, at home, working, whenever, and Slit's lonely. Misses him, and it's fucking disgustingly soft, but he can't help it. 

It gets boring, too. There's only so much netflix a person can watch without going crazy, and he's near that limit. And Nux has taken to turning his phone of because Slit keeps texting him, so that's no fun any more. So Slit, naturally, starts texting Capable. She appreciates it more. Probably because her job seems to involve a lot of standing around and hoping customers will show up, still, although she says it's getting better.

Slit sends her weird pictures he find online, dumb jokes, old embarrassing pictures of Nux. She seems to like the latter best, and she's indirectly witnessed some of their more shameful fashion choices through the ages. He's not sure quite what he's trying to prove with this. That they weren't all bad always, maybe? That even in the midst of the club there was innocence? Nah, that shit sounds too mushy. Just to make her laugh, he decides. He's got a box, old photos Nux stole from Ace when they moved out, on the floor next to the sofa. It's got bits and pieces of their childhood. Poorly framed pictures of him and Nux as kids. It kind of surprises Slit that Ace took those. Based on these you could almost think he and Nux had a normal childhood. Probably there were other photos Ace did not deem worthy of keeping. More representative ones. He finds one of an eight year old Nux dressed as a pirate. It's from just after their proper foster father died, and the smile on tiny Nux's face feels forced. Slit can see himself running out of frame, a stick saber clutched in a small hand. He takes a picture of it, texts it to Capable.

Capable: Cute! <3  
Capable: Aren't there any of you?

Which is a fair question, he supposes. There are. But he's afraid that if he sends her pictures of his old face, even if it's him as a kid, she'll be disappointed in what it looks like now. He finds a later one, him at sixteen, arm around Nux's shoulder, pressing him down and trying to be taller. His fingers are curled into the fabric of Nux's t-shirt and Slit remembers the slight worry in Ace's face after he took the photo. It's from a few years before the accident, before Slit had any scars, and Nux just had the one over his nose. It's unsettling to look at, almost. Their faces whole. Capable would probably like it. 

Slit: Nah was shit looking kid

Capable: :(

He looks through the last stack of photos. Nux and him at ten and eleven, sitting on and pretending to ride motorbikes. A second picture taken as Slit is in the process of falling off his half a minute later. A bunch of blurry photos that no one's remembered to throw out, fuzzy pale circles that might be faces. He lets them fall back into their box. Gets up, tapes the box closed again, stuffs it far under the bed. And he must be getting better because his ribs are almost fine with this. He texts Capable back, asking if anything interesting is going on, but she doesn't reply.

So he's a bit surprised when there's a knock on the door fifteen minutes later and she's standing there holding two coffees.

“Didn't know ya delivered,” he says, accepting the cup she thrusts into his hand.

“New special service,” she tells him, “just for temporarily immobile really bored guys.”

“Come to talk me into showin' ya more photos?”

“Hey now. I'm here to make you feel less lonely and awful,” she says, walks past him into the flat.

“But also yes, yes I am,” she adds, looking around unsubtly.

Slit huffs in amusement, sips his coffee. It's almost gone cold. She must have walked. She sits down on the sofa, coffee cup in her hands, still squinting suspiciously around. He sits down next to her, taps his cup to hers, drinks. She's looking at him, this slight hint of a smile on her face and usually he lets stares fuel him with spite and anger, but under her gaze he feels self-conscious. 

“What?” he asks, eyes darting a little more nervously than he would like.

“Why don't you want to show me?”

He looks away, not sure how to formulate this in a way that won't make him seem like a fucking soft scared little kid. Some kind of way that'll just underline how cool and badass he clearly is, but he doesn't have time because her hand is on his and

“What are you worried about?”

“Nothin'. Just, uh.”

Her careful smile is so kind it hurts. 

“Fine,” he tells her.

Which is not his wisest decision, but he probably can't take it back now. Damn. He gets up, walks into the messy bedroom, pulls the box out from under the bed. Stands there holding it for a little while, debating whether to censor it. Decides against it, eventually. Brings it back out and puts it on the table in front of Capable. Stares into his coffee and refuses to look at her. He sits and listens to the shuffling of photos. His coffee's gone cold, but she brought it all the way here, and he will finish it.

“Oh my god,” Capable says.

“What?”

“Look at this, look at you two!”

She's holding up the photo of him and Nux as teenagers, waving it around with an excited grin on her face.

“Let me tell you, 14 year old Capable would definitely have been crushing hard on you guys,” she says.

“Mhm. Everyone did.”

“Really?”

“Well. Maybe it was mostly me and Nux an' on each other. Everyone that mattered.”

Capable laughs, looks at the picture again.

“You two were together back then? All this time?”

“Yeah. Since. Shit, I don't know. Since we figured out it was a thing?”

“Wow. That is. Now I really feel like I'm intruding.”

“No! No, shit, no, you're not,” he says, puts a hand on her shoulder.

“We, uh, we really want to, ah shit,” he continues, and now Capable just looks a bit amused.

“Hey, it's okay,” she tells him. 

Puts a hand on top of his, her skin warm against his. She makes him feel so soft, so worried, and that bothers him a little bit. But it's also nice. It's not quite what Nux does to him, but something a bit like it. Maybe it'll become more similar with time. Although that many years are going to take a while to catch up. And probably that's a not a bad thing.

“I'm not going away,” she tells him, “I just don't want to fuck up what you two have, because clearly that's the most important thing.”

Slit frowns.

“Ain't sure ya could. Been through so much shit I don't think we could...”

“That's good,” she says, squeezing his hand, “I want to be part of whatever this is, but only if it's not messing with what you guys have.”

“It ain't. 'Cept with me pretendin' my hair was never that bad.”

“It's not bad, it's just curly,” she says, examining the photo. “I like it. Tiny teenager you is pretty cute.”

Slit kind of sighs and she looks at him.

“Nowhere near as great looking as current you, though,” she reassures him. “Although the cute factor's not as high.”

He snorts in amusement.

“Good.”

“I mean that,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “Worked pretty hard to be more badass than anythin' else.”

She rolls her eyes. Flips through more pictures. He leans back, looking at her. She seems very focused. Stares at all the photos like she can learn some deep truth from them. Or maybe just so she can feel like she knows him and Nux.

“You two seem so close,” she says.

“We were. Are.”

“Wish I had that,” she says, putting the box down, leaning back.

He puts his arm round her shoulders, draws her closer.

“Thought ya had your sisters? Ain't that the same? 'Cept the fuckin'. Well, other than Dag an' Toast, I mean.”

“Heh, not quite. I mean. There's no one I'm closer to, but… The thing that brought us together, it's...” she trails off.

“'S okay, ya don't have to,” Slit says.

“It wasn't good,” she concludes.

Slit pulls her into a hug, then, because that's what you do, right? You hold the person close and hope that somehow that will make the shit you've been through feel less bad. And she buries her face in his neck, and her hair is all over his face and smells like coffee and cheap shampoo. He wraps both arms around her and she makes a noise he hopes is good. Presses a quick kiss to his neck, and that sends a jolt of something through him. 

“You're so sweet,” she tells him, ignoring the scoffing sound he makes. “I can't believe the first thing you said to me was a shitty pick up line.”

“It was a great line an' I stand by it,” he says, mock defiant.

“Know how often guys try to hit on us at the café?” she asks.

“Ah shit.”

“Daily. Multiple times a day.”

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“Especially Cheedo,” she says, looking thoughtful.

Slit frowns.

“Ain't she like fifteen? That shit ain't right.”

“Sixteen,” Capable says. “And mostly it's boys from a high school nearby who've decided we're all good looking or whatever. It's kind of gross, but it's not as wrong as the creepy middle aged guys. There are always a couple of those.”

“If ya need me to sit at a table an' intimidate the fuck outta creepy guys just say the word. Or get me an' Nux there together, makin' out an' makin' everyone uncomfortable,” he says, looking her in the eye very seriously.

“Might have to take you up on that,” she says, smiling. “If only to spend my working hours watching the two of you kissing. That would, uh, help.”

“Mhmm?” Slit asks.

“Yeah, that'd be pretty great,” she says, leaning a little towards him.

He smirks at her, waits for her to move the rest of the way, and she does, and his smirk disappears pretty goddamn quick then. Her lips are sweet against his, and she tastes of bitter coffee. One of her hands is gripping his head, fingers in his still unshaven hair. The other hand's sliding over his arm, feeling his scars. He's gripping her waist, pulling her closer, till she's almost on top of him. She feels so good pressed against him like this, and he can't quite keep his dick from getting interested in the proceedings. He tries to ignore that.

Capable pulls back, just an inch or two, looks into his eyes, very serious.

“You should really keep letting your hair grow back,” she says.

“Yeah? Keep this up, I'll do anythin' ya tell me,” he says, and suspects he may come to regret that.

“That true?”

He doesn't answer, just pulls her in for another kiss. She laughs into his mouth, accidentally knocking their heads together. And that's good, that's safe, somehow. Her hands are tracing the scars on his face, now, but it's not keeping her from the kissing, the important bit, and he's grateful for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My skill set includes updating two days late and using bits of not really appropriate songs as chapter titles and probably missing a few typos.


	21. Chapter 21

“Hey ya ugly piece a shit I'm home,” is the first thing Nux says as he opens his door and just no.

That, Capable decides, has got to be wrong. Because clearly that's not a thing Slit's completely comfortable with, little as he seems to want to admit. She waits till Nux has come into the room, is halfway into a greeting.

“Nux, what the hell, why would you-” Capable starts to say, but Slit puts a hand on her knee, a calm down.

“'S okay, 's not...” Slit says, frowns. 

Nux looks puzzled.

“Hey Nux,” Slit says, “tell her how handsome I am.”

And Nux puts down the stuff he's holding and comes over and cups Slit face in his hands and presses a kiss to each of his scarred up cheeks.

“Most handsome guy I ever seen,” he says. “Outside of a mirror, at least.”

Slit laughs, and okay, apparently it's their thing, she can accept that, that's okay. She mumbles an embarrassed apology. Nux kisses her cheek and tells her it's fine.

“What ya doin' here anyway? Slit's not gotten himself beat up again has he?”

“Just keeping him company while you're out providing.”

“And, hey- Why are those...” Nux says, looking at the box full of photos.

“Slit was just showing me what you guys used to look like,” Capable tells him innocently.

“Was he,” Nux says flatly, glaring at Slit.

“Come on, you two were so tiny and cute,” she says, puts a hand on Nux's arm.

“Were not,” both of them say, and okay, they kind of still are, and she can't keep an almost smug smile off her face.

-

Furiosa is back, talking about ways to maybe get more customers. The others are discussing social media strategies. Capable can't quite pay attention. She's browsing through news on her phone, because she saw something, some mention of the War Boys earlier, just as her phone decided to reload her app. She's not entirely sure what it was, but it didn't sound good. Not sure whateher it's related to her boys either, but it's probably relevant either way.

When she looks up Furiosa is watching her. Her eyes a narrowed and she seems thoughtful, but not exactly angry. Capable can only assume Toast has told her that Capable has made no effort to keep her promise. And she can't really blame Toast for that. She would probably do the same if their roles were reversed.

“What?” she asks and she sounds tired and unfriendly even to her own ears.

“You're making a mistake.”

“Maybe. It's my mistake to make, though,” Capable tells her, shrugging.

Furiosa nods, acknowledges this.

“I know you think you know what you're doing, but-”

“I don't.”

“What?”

“I've no clue what I'm doing, but I'm not going to let what one man did to me, to us, make me so bitter and hurt and broken that I can never trust anyone other than you guys again. Maybe that would be the wise thing, but that's not me. I can't believe that most people aren't, on some level, good. Because that really would break me.”

Furiosa looks at her. Sighs softly.

“Please don't think I'm not grateful, though,” she pleads, “please don't think I'm throwing away the safety and freedom you gave us. I'm not trying to be spiteful, I'm just trying to be happy.”

-

“It is good, it's its own kind of bravery,” Dag tells her, soft fingers collecting Capable's hair in a complex braid.

“I'm not,” Capable says. “Stupid, maybe. I don't know. I don't think I care.”

“Of course you do. But they are good boys, at their core. Rough and spikey on the outside, but even that's getting worn down. By the world. By you.”

Dag voice is soft and musical and despite herself Capable feels better for her assurances. They're sitting in the living room of the flat, waiting for their shift to begin. The early afternoon sun bathes the room in a warm yellow light, and it feels safe. Cocoon like. 

“ _He_ kept us locked up. Can't let our fear do the same. That, if anything, would be wasting our freedom.”

Capable turns around, braid falling from Dag's grasp, and gives her sister a hug. Dag's hand pats her shoulder.

“We will rebuild ourselves stronger than we were. He will have failed,” she promises, strokes Capable's hair.

“I love you, Dag,” Capable says.

“You too, sweetling,” she replies. “But I think it is our turn to provide the world with coffee now, and we must go.”

It is, as usual, quiet when they get down into the café. Cheedo and Toast seem glad to be relieved though, so perhaps that's a temporary situation. They don their aprons, and take their places. Dag waters the potted plants that hang from the ceiling because that, according to her, was where they could reach their fullest potential. whatever that is.

Capable thinks over what Furiosa said. What she meant. And she understands. She wouldn't want people she saved from a monster out getting themselves in danger either, but Dag's right. Hiding won't help. It'll just reinforce all their fear, all their insecurities. But is she agreeing with that because she's in love with these stupid guys, or because it's true? She's not sure whether she can trust her judgement on that, and it's scary. But she doesn't want to be broken. And maybe this is her healing. This is her beginning to trust people, venturing out into the world, and maybe if she pretends that it's safe it will become so.

She is so lost in thought that she doesn't hear the bell ringing and announcing a new customer. She doesn't notice anything until he's standing in front of her, in fact, looking at her. It's the old biker guy who's been in a couple times before, and, based on her perusal of Slit and Nux's old photos, she knows this is Ace. Who raised them and took care of them, but also who seemingly tossed them out. She's not sure whether to be angry or grateful on their behalf. She settles for professional.

“Hi, sorry, hi, what can I get you?” she asks, voice forced bright.

“Hello. I'd like a large coffee to go, please?”

He seems perfectly nice, she thinks. Not like part of a violent criminal gang at all. She wonders if Slit and Nux have asked him about the strange guys who attacked Slit. She wonders what would happen were she to ask. Probably she shouldn't. She doesn't think Ace knows about her and the guys, and if that's the case, then they probably want it staying that way.

She fills his cup mechanically, writes his name on without asking, without thinking. He accepts it, thanks her, looks slightly puzzled. 

“Uh, by the way,” he says, “you ain't seen a couple of guys come in here? Tall, scarred up faces, ink on their necks like this-” he turns and indicates his own brand tattoo.

“Not lately,” she tells him.

“Well, if you do, tell them Ace was lookin' for 'em, yeah?” he says and turns to go.

“Why? Why are you looking for them?”

He looks back, and she can tell, somehow, that he knows. Perhaps not everything, but he can probably guess. She is not good at pretending.

“I'm worried,” he says.

She debates with herself, with the imaginary voices of Slit and Nux, for a moment.

“They're okay,” she tells him. “Mostly. Text them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Fair warnin' for ya, if ya know 'em, I saw Morsov headin' this way. Know what that means?”

She grimaces, nods. He tells her goodbye and walks out and she wonders whether she's made a huge mistake telling him. She'll find out, probably. She imagines the guys will not be pleased, and resolves not to tell them. Not directly. It's not a good idea, but sometimes you've got to give in to the bad ones too.

It's another five minutes before Morsov comes in. He's in his club jacket, and the somehow smug smile is, if not unmistakeable, then exactly how Slit describes it in hateful detail. She considers telling him he's not welcome, that all club members are banned, but he probably saw Ace walking out, and she doesn't really want to antagonize these violent criminals further than she has to. Doesn't want them retaliating. She settles for misspelling his name and making his extra strong black coffee decaf instead. Nothing that will bring violent vengeance down upon them. Dag hovers near the back door, glaring at him. Capable's not sure whether Dag's got any idea who he is, but maybe he gives of bad vibes or something. It wouldn't surprise her.

“I don't like that guy,” Dag says after he leaves.

“Apparently no one does,” Capable says.

Then, soon after, there is a small rush. People heading home from work who need the extra energy to deal with their families, or students who need the caffeine to fuel them through hours of fighting with heavy text books. As long as they're spending their money at the Green Place Capable's happy. Dag has excused herself from the counter to sit with her laptop setting up a facebook page for the café instead of actually dealing with customers, but that's fine. Being busy helps Capable not think, and that's quite nice sometimes. Somehow both peaceful and stressing.

The afternoon customers aren't in such a hurry, either, which is good. No work that will threaten to let them go if they show up fifteen minutes late with an approximation of starbucks. There are many, but none of them yell at her. No one even tries to flirt with her or Dag, so that's a good thing. Well, almost no one. 

Nux stops by after he finishes at his new garage, wherever that is. Capable strongly suspects it's nowhere near the Green Place, but she's not about to tell him to not visit her. He waits patiently as she helps an old lady decipher their chalkboard menu of espresso drinks, smiling at her when she glances at him.

“Hey,” he says, when it's his turn, leans over the counter to give her a quick kiss.

There's someone in line after him, and she feels both giddy and a little embarrassed.

“Hi, same as always?”

“Same as always. One for Slit too.”

“They'll get cold by the time you're home,” she tells him, “These paper cups aren't that good.”

But Nux just smiles, fishes round in the bag of what she assumed was tools he's got slung over his shoulder.

“I know. 'S why I brought these,” he says, and holds up two travel mugs. 

They're the cheapest kind, shiny metal and lids in garish colours, but he's carved his and Slit's names into them, and he's smiling like he's so proud and it's pretty sweet.

“Aww,” she says. “Right, those should work.”

“Ace was here, looking for you,” she tells him as she gets the coffees ready.

“Yeah? What'd he want?”

“He only said he was worried about you.”

Nux makes annoyed-distressed noise. Accepts the mugs Capable hands him. The mugs have got funny looking little clip on things that look hand made. She wonders if their purpose is to attach them to the bikes. Nux stand around while she helps the only other customer. Sips his coffee with a look of bliss she suspects is slightly exaggerated for her sake.

“You asked him him about the gang thing yet, about what they did to Slit?”

“Not yet. I'm gonna.”

“You should. He really does seem worried.”

“Yeah,” Nux says, looking uncomfortable.

“I'll do it when I get back. Or get Slit to.”

He doesn't leave immediately, though. Stays there sipping his coffee for a moment. Dag gets up from her computer, comes over. Leans on the counter and demands Capable get her a cup of tea. And while Capable is crouching and looking through the tins for the exact blend Dag wants, she hears her tell Nux that if he or Slit hurt Capable in any way she will personally come to their house and cut off their dicks and feed them to them.

“Dag!,” Capable exclaims.

“No, no that's fair,” Nux says, and why isn't anyone Capable knows a normal, reasonable person?

She grabs the right tin, finally. Crows before dawn. Smells like berries. 

“Dag please don't threaten them.”

“It's fine, it's fine. Used to it,” Nux says.

“That's deeply worrying,” she tells him. “And also not the point.”

Dag shrugs. 

Capable fills Dag's cup with hot water and a tea egg, pointedly walking over to the table to place it there. Dag seems perfectly happy. Capable gives Nux a kiss goodbye, tells him to give Slit a kiss for her, and he promises to, in fact, give several. And then he's walking out and Dag's yelling after him to make sure to like their facebook page.

“Thought you said they were harmless,” Capable asks, arms crossed sternly.

“Always good to make sure,” Dag says. “You never know.”

“Can't you just read it in their palms or whatever?”

“Tsk. Palm reading's for frauds. Tea leaves are the answers now.”

Capable shakes her head. No reasonable people whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening scene is 100% an excuse to reference Helman's role in The Pacific and has no other significance.   
> Also I rewatched Days of Future Past yesterday and I am very disappointed that there's no Stryker/Beast crack fic that's come out since Fury Road? Someone get on that. (I just need people who look like Hoult & Helman hate-smooching)  
> (Also apparently people aren't seeing updates? :CC Don't know why this is but I blame AO3, beautiful as this site is)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me life and I just want to give a digital hug to you guys who take the time to do so (and to everyone who reads this you guys are great too) and it's just so motivating<3 You make me want to keep writing and to keep trying to do so better.

“Yeah, we asked,” Nux tells her, “but Ace wasn't sure. Said he had to ask round all subtle, not make the rest of the club suspicious.”

“So it's even more fuckin' waitin' around,” Slit adds, “I feel so fuckin' useless.”

The three of them are huddled close round a table at the Green Place, partly because the tables are small and there's not a lot of room, but also because Toast is standing behind the counter, arms folded, squinting at them. Capable had said it would be good to hang out here all three of them, to get her sisters used to the idea. Cheedo is hiding in the back room and “working” on her phone. Toast is too busy staring at the three of them to care about that, and at any rate there's only one other customer there, some young guy in a hoodie, ear buds in and bent over a laptop and a stack of text books. It's an even quieter day there than usual.

“But something is definitely up, right?” Capable asks, “this isn't just a normal beating? Do you guys have those?”

Slit and Nux look at her, then at each other, then laugh. And hey, it's not her fault she wasn't raised in a motor cycle club, she doesn't know what goes on there.

“Not like that, no,” Nux tells her and at least that's reassuring.

“Do you guys think you're safe, though?”

“Course we're fuckin' safe,” Slit growls, “we look like fuckin' p-” Nux elbows him, “fuckin' weak pieces of shit to ya?”

“No,” she admits, “but you did just spend a week recovering. Clearly it's not nothing.”

Slit grumbles indistinctly. Nux gives him a flat I feel ya mate type smile.

“As someone sort of invested I'm going to make the radical suggestion that you don't try to spy on people any more,” she tells him. 

“Why not?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Because clearly you're pretty shit at it.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but doesn't. Nux sighs because, clearly, he's used to this.

“I mean, I would like you two to ignore it and hope it goes away, but I suspect that's not all that likely. So just. I don't know. I hope you don't try to get hurt on purpose. Or are like, more reckless than usual.”

“We'll try,” Nux promises, but Slit makes a non-committal noise till she glares at him and he gives a nod.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Do our best.”

Capable gives them a small smile, and she hopes they stick to that. She wouldn't put it past them to lie to her, not out of spite or something, but in the genuine belief that making her feel better while they did something incredibly stupid and dangerous would somehow make it better. But she'll trust them. Hope they deserve that trust, and if they don't… She's not quite sure how she'll deal with that yet. Chooses to believe she won't have to.

They've come quite a long way, after all, since she met them. Not technically War Boys any more, letting their hair grow out, at least a little. They seem less aggressive, and maybe they are. Or maybe she's just learnt how to read Slit's expressions beyond what the heavy brow and wicked scars suggest. Maybe it's that she's seen how they look at each other when there's no one else near, how they're starting to look at her. Not in the way that the young guys and occasional girl that walks into the shop does, but like Toast and Dag look at each other. That softening of their entire face and demeanour. 

The guys are sitting so their arms are just touching, and she thinks even this may be new. That they've spent so much time in the club hiding that they've sort of never been affectionate in public before. It's sweet, almost like a shy new couple, not two slightly terrifying guys who've been together in some way or other for almost half their lives. 

Capable glances at Toast, who is still occasionally staring over the shoulder of the customer she's helping. Clearly this is not helping her change her minds about them. The conversation has probably not been helpful, and quiet as they've tried to be, Toast is still only on the other side of the small and fairly quiet café. Capable tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it doesn't seem to help much. She considers asking her to come over and just straight up interrogating the guys, but she can't imagine anything good coming from it.

Apparently, though, her mental suggestion powers are stronger than she imagined, because after the customer leaves, Toast comes over to their tiny table. She looks resentfully at the guys, and they stare back defiantly, but don't say anything. 

“Look,” Toast says, crossing her arms over her chest angrily or defensively. “I don't like you guys. I don't trust your intentions.”

“Toast, please,” Capable says, holds up a hand as if to stop the exchange.

“Hey, we ain't-” Slit begins, but Toast interrupts him.

“Shut up. I don't trust you not to hurt my sister, but for whatever reason she does. And that's pretty… pretty unwise of her.”

“Right here, Toast,” Capable mutters.

“And I'm not going to try to stop her any more because god knows that's not working.”

Capable and Slit and Nux exchange looks, but remain quiet.

“But if you do, if you two cause her any pain in any way, if you hurt my sister, I will find you, and I will make you wish you never were born.”

This last bit is uttered with so much malice that Nux and Slit actually look a little nervous. Toast looks them hard in the eye, then walks back to her position behind the counter. Capable puts her head in her hands and sighs.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my sisters keep threatening you.”

“Eh, least ya know they care,” Slit says. 

“Yeah,” Nux agrees. “If I had a sister tried to date two guys like us, I'd probably threaten them too.”

“Just feels like they don't trust me,” she says. “Doesn't feel good.”

-

“Two guys at once, Cape, really? One dangerous biker dude wasn't enough?”

“It's not like that, Toast. It's not like I purposefully went out looking for the riskiest fucking relationship I could find, it's not like I fucking planned this.”

Toast laughs bitterly.

“Even started swearing like them. Cute.”

Capable sighs.

“It was an all or nothing sort of deal,” she explains, “two of them were already together,” and somehow that clarification does not seem to make it better.

“And what, so because they're gay or bi or whatever, that makes them harmless?”

“That's not what I said and you know it. I'm just saying that there's no relationship with one of them, that wouldn't work. And they really are good guys mostly. Tiny bit scary looking, but good.”

“They do seem like they really like her,” Cheedo says. 

She's standing in the doorway to Toast and Capable's room, has clearly been following the conversation for a while.

“Doesn't mean they won't hurt her,” Toast says.

“They won't,” Capable says. “They really are sweet guys, I promise you.”

“I think it's nice you've found someone,” Cheedo says. “I think it's probably good for you.”

“Yeah,” Capable says. “Yeah, thank you Cheedo.”

Toast frowns, sighs. Settles on her bed and picks up a book, demonstratively starting to read. Cheedo gives Capable a small smile, and leaves. Capable spends a few minutes wrangling her long hair into thick braids, occasionally looking over at Toast, looking for a reaction but finding none.

“I know you're scared,” Capable says after a while. “I know losing Angharad hit you hard and I know you're terrified of losing another sister. I am too.”

Toast snaps her book shut. Her eyes are shining with anger and grief and regret.

“Then why do you insist on putting yourself in danger? Why do you have to tempt fate like that?”

“I'm not, Toast, I'm really not. I just wish I could make you understand that I'm safe, that this isn't some self destructive reaction.”

“It is. It is whether you want it to be or not. There are so many times you could have walked away before there were feelings involved and you didn't. You just kept going, and I know you think this is going to turn out fine, but those guys aren't sweet puppies. They're brutal. Have you heard anything about the War Boys? About the kind of things they do? People have died, Cape. Do you think Furiosa tells you to keep away from them because she doesn't want you to be happy?”

Toast is breathing heavily, a tear is threatening to escape her eye. Capable looks down.

“I know,” she says.

“Then what are you doing? How can you say that you're safe?”

“No,” she says, “no you're right. I've got no idea what the hell I'm doing, but thank god I've got my sisters to tell me.”

And she doesn't mean it as bitterly as it comes out, but when she sees the look on Toast's face she knows she can't stay here. She picks up her phone, grabs her jacket from where it's thrown over the foot of her bed. Walks out.

“Where are you going? Capable! Hey, it's half past ten, don't g-”

But the rest of Toast's argument is lost as Capable slams the door shut a little too hard. The voice of reason in her head tells her that Toast is right, that this is a bad time to be out. She's got the early shift in the morning, too. But her voice of petulant anger is stronger. She texts Nux, asks if she can come over. Gets a thumbs up emoji back, and starts walking. And now she's proving Toast right, isn't she? Walking alone outside in the dark deserted streets. But she can't go back.

The street lights flicker above her, interrupted by the quick flutter motions of fat moths. She glances nervously around her, but for now she can't see anyone. It's not a very residential area, there aren't many people heading home at this hour. There's still twenty minutes more till she's at Slit and Nux's place, she's pretty sure, and their neighbourhood is worse than hers. So when she glances back and sees the silhouette of a man half a block behind her she hurries up. She can't hear his steps, can't hear if he's sped up too, but she glances in the mirror of a car she passes, and he seems closer. Shit fuck shit Toast was right. She's going to get herself killed and Toast will have been right, not about the guys, but about Capable being self destructive. She walks faster, almost jogging, for another two blocks, but now she can hear quick, hard steps behind her, broken glass crushed under heavy boots. 

She's considering running when a bright light followed by a loud roar appears at the end of the street, approaching rapidly. She worries that whoever it is is just another threat because that would be perfect, wouldn't it? But when the bike comes to a screeching halt in the street beside her she recognizes Nux and oh thank god.

“Hey,” he says, “thought you might like a ride?” and she hurries over to him.

“Thank you,” she says, and kisses his cheek before getting on the back of the bike. 

The large guy who might or might not have been following her walks on, giving no clue as to his intentions. Either way, Capable is relieved, and clings to Nux harder than she needs to. And isn't this all the proof Toast should need? That these guys worry about her more than she does herself? Or least more practically. She rests her head on Nux's back, not looking.

“You okay?” Nux asks as they're climbing the stairs to the guys' flat.

“I don't know,” she admits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really conscious of my tendency to over-explain details and movements and things, and if you notice it, please let me know, because I'm trying to get better at writing, and I know that reading it can be, you know, tedious and frankly unnecessary to the plot. Noticed it a lot in the previous chapter, rereading it just now.
> 
> Also, apropos something someone mentioned about Capable admitting she was in love with the guys in the previous chapter, if only in passing and in her own head: my native language does not have separate expressions for having a crush and being in love, and so I might use the phrases slightly wrong given their intensity of feeling and such in English. Sorry about that.


	23. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much what the title says to be honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning I really do not know what I'm talking about and if I get things wrong if reactions seem implausible then I am sorry and please tell me so I can try to fix it.

Capable doesn't immediately announce why she's come there. It's eleven by the time she follows Nux in through the front door. Her face is unreadable, at least to Slit. She's got her arms wrapped around herself, for warmth or comfort. 

“Hey,” he says, leaving the why are you here unspoken.

Because it's not the sort of thing you ask, he thinks, because maybe she needs to be at their place because things are not okay.

“Everythin' good?” he asks cautiously.

“No,” she says. “Not really.”

And she tosses her jacket onto the designated jacket pile on the floor where something in it buzzes angrily. Sits down next to him. Nux sits down on the other side of her, and they both look at her sort of expectantly, but try to be subtle about it.

“Sorry,” she says, which puzzles Slit.

“'Bout what?”

“I'm not even sure anymore. I just know that I am.”

He nudges her shoulder with his, hoping that communicates his sympathy. 

“We causin' ya more trouble?” Nux asks.

“No,” she says, “no. I am causing myself trouble.”

“Sister Toast not bein' as supportive as she can?”

“No. Yes. She just worries. She can't let the past go. Can't let Angharad go,” Capable explains, then sort of frowns, as if having said something she didn't mean to reveal.

“Angharad?” Slit asks.

Capable looks down at her hands folded in her lap. Her braids hang heavy round her face, obscuring her expression. Slit feels an urge to hold her, to assure her everything's going to be fine, but the timing is probably wrong, and the assurance unlikely. He settles for a hand on her shoulder. Her sweater is scratchy and unpleasant to the touch and he wonders whether it's a handmade gift. 

“She was one of us. Another sister,” Capable says at last. “We… We lost her. When we, uh.”

“I'm sorry,” Slit and Nux both say.

“When we escaped,” Capable finishes, not quite having heard them.

“Escaped?”

Capable looks up, looks at both of them and something in her eyes has vicious claws that grab Slit's heart and tear into it. 

“Yeah, we… We were taken. The five of us. Captive.”

Her brow creases in remembered anger. She stares at a spot on the floor as she continues. Can't face them, or seeing the past before her eyes or both. Slit and Nux exchange worried glances behind her back, but remain still. Let her speak when she's ready.

“He kept us. Called us his wives, but we were taken in the night. We never had a chance. Angharad was the first. She was there the longest, and she was the one who fought against him the hardest. She was the one who gave the rest of us hope.”

She pauses, breathes deep. 

“He forced his vile spawn on her. Tried to on all of us. But she was good. She forgave the thing inside of her. And when we were almost to freedom, she- Fuck. Fuck I don't...”

She curls down, arms around herself, like she's trying to not let the sadness out. Slit and Nux look at each other again, silently debating whether soft touches are comforting or a reminder of what she has gone through. Slit has no clue which is worse for her, risks it. Rubs careful circles into her back, but not otherwise moving closer. He can feel her shaking with silent sobs, almost but not quite keeping control. Slit wants desperately to make her feel better, but doesn't know how, doesn't know if he can. Doesn't know if it would be a good thing, even. Sadness has its place, someone explained to him, but he's not sure he agrees. He wants to beat up the bad shit fucking up the people he cares about, but they remain frustratingly intangible.

“They never caught him,” she whispers. “Never any justice for that old monster.”

She rights herself and her cheeks are wet and her eyes red. There are black smears in the corners. She's got this fearful, desperate look in her eyes and Slit decides that that is it. Pulls her close, but gently, arms not quite all the way around her so it's not a trapping hug. But her face is smooshed into his neck, and her arms are tight around him, and Nux is carefully joining the hug and it's an awkward position in terms of practicality, but Capable doesn't seem to mind.

Slit's got no clue what to say, and Nux doesn't seem to either. There's nothing really they can say, is there. Nothing that can ease that kind of pain. He kisses the top of her head softly. Wants her to feel safe. He isn't sure she can. She isn't sure anyone can after going through something like that. Which makes it even more admirable that she's chosen to trust them. That she lets herself be this vulnerable here, of all places and with them of all people. He hopes they can deserve it. 

He resists again the urge to tell her it's alright, because it's clearly not. And talking about it is hard, that much is obvious. She pulls back, shakes off their arms, but gently.

“I'm just gonna,” she says, and walks into the small bathroom.

“Shit,” Nux whispers to Slit.

“Yeah,” Slit agrees.

“How do we...?”

“Don't know. Think we just try an' listen to her? Let her say what she...” he trails off.

“Probably.”

Nux scoots over till he's sitting pressed against Slit, leans his head on Slit's shoulder. Slit rubs at Nux's bristly head. It's soft and spiky, satisfying, somehow. Nux thinks so too, going by the soft noise he makes. 

“Think she'll be alright?” he asks.

“Hope so,” Slit says.

Capable emerges from the bathroom. Her face is wet, but not with tears, and that seems like a good sign. Tiny droplets cling sparkling to her hair and her eyelashes. She sits down next to Nux, leaning forward, elbows on thighs. Looks firmly into the grimy carpet.

“Can I crash here tonight? I'm not sure I can go back there yet.”

“Of course!”

“Always!”

“Welcome to stay as long as ya want-”

“Please stay-”

She tilts her head to look up at them tripping over each others words and she smiles weakly. 

“I- You guys are great, you know that?”

Slit and Nux nod in unison and she laughs and it's good it's right and she looks so beautiful. Claws are gripping at Slit's heart again, but softly now, in a different way. The same as when he looks at Nux sometimes. It's a good feeling, he thinks.

He wonders if he'll have to treat her differently now. Or her sisters. It's not like he didn't know terrible things had probably happened to them, but if what he's piecing together from Capable's understandably non-specific explanation is right, then he's not sure he can avoid it. But he doesn't know if he should, probably she won't want him to, he thinks. Just try to appreciate her trusting them enough to share this with them. 

“Are you...” Nux starts to ask but falters.

“I'll be okay,” she says. “I try not to think about it too much. And it's. It's a bit overwhelming when I do.”

“How long's it been?” Slit asks and Nux sort of frowns a no at him, but Capable doesn't seem to mind.

“Less than a year,” she says and Slit's not sure why but he expected it to be a lot further in the past.

“Oh.”

He wants again to ask her how she is, like a fucking broken record. He swallows the urge down. Can tell she sees something in his face, though, maybe in Nux's too. 

“Really, I'll be okay,” she promises but her eyes are still red and shinier than they should be.

She leans a little closer to Nux, who wraps long arms around her. Slit rests a hand on Nux's thigh and looks at them and is struck yet again by how natural they seem together. He wonders if he looks like that with either of them. Hopes so. Hopes people will look at the three of them one day and be annoyed at the stupid amounts of affection. That they will make people uncomfortable with their happiness. He rarely thinks about the future but now this is a goal. Get there. Better than dying in a motorcycle accident for the club, which he had always assumed would happen at some point. Not with great joy or fear, but it had seemed inevitable. And that had been fine. He finds himself glad that's not an option any more.

The others are looking at him, he realises. 

“What?” he asks and it sounds grumpier than he intends it to.

But they're both moving to lean over him, over each other, to kiss him. Three way kisses very much do not work, they discover then. Not enough space and terribly messy. They give up quickly, but shuffle around so the others are both somehow resting against him. He suspect it's slightly uncomfortable for everyone. Someone's elbow is poking hard into his stomach, but it's nice enough that none of them want to move. 

Slit finds himself worrying how much contact Capable is comfortable with. Wants to hold her close for days. Thinks maybe she doesn't want to be held so much, especially not by a man. Wonders if asking would be weird. Probably. He should do so anyway. But not right now. He doesn't want to question right now.

-

Capable offers to sleep on the sofa, and then Slit and Nux say that no, absolutely not, she gets the bed, they'll share the sofa, and she points out, with some amusement, that there is definitely not enough space. They argue back and forth, but conclude that they can decide that they're close enough that they all share the bed. And they do. It's not quite made to spaciously fit three people, but they don't mind. 

Slit wonders if it makes the others as oddly nervous and excited as it does him. They find Capable a t-shirt to sleep in that is both clean and not club related and given the state of everything that is a small miracle. She looks unfairly good in it and Slit bites down on the scar tissue in his cheeks to stop himself looking in the way his body is signalling very clearly that it wants to.

Capable sleeps on the outer edge of the bed, Slit in the middle, and somehow both Nux and Capable end up using his chest as a pillow. He puts arms around them both and he's not sure he can fall asleep like this but he doesn't care. It's not like he has to be up early to be unemployed. And this feels far too good to move. Possibly ever. He feels their warm breath on his skin, growing slower and steadier as they fall asleep. Thanks whatever force decided that he deserves this. Or grants this to him in despite the fact that he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short but in fairness it's only like 15 hours since the last one so I'm not feeling too guilty about that. I just needed to get this out because it might be a little while till the next one.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the exception of like two twenty minute naps I have been awake for 39 hours please do not judge my inevitable spelling errors and badly constructed sentences too harshly.

When Capable wakes up she panics. Eyes dart around wildly, and she strains against the heavy arm around her middle. Her breath is too quick. The room is unfamiliar. So is the warmth of a person against her back, the feeling of hot breath on the back of her neck.

It's seconds before she remembers. Before the recognizes the rough texture of the scarred skin against hers. She looks down and it's Slit's arm holding her. They've moved in their sleep, and her limbs are curled protectively around herself, as usual. She never falls asleep like this but something in her dreams makes her assume this defensive position every night. She never remembers her dreams any more.

Slit makes a noise against her, woken up, maybe, by her movement. She wriggles, turns around so she's facing him. He opens one eye, unfocused with sleep. She murmurs a good morning, and his eye closes again, clearly not agreeing completely. She moves so their foreheads touch and she lets the steady rhythm of his breathing guide hers. It feels calm. 

It's before dawn, she thinks, but the thin sliver of sky she can glimpse through the small window isn't dark. She can stay a while before she's got to be at work. Maybe she can convince Nux to drop her off. Walking doesn't feel tempting after last night. She wonders how filled her phone will be with messages. Feels a sort of perverse joy in making everyone worry, but it's quickly replaced with guilt. She should have told them where she was, that she got there safe. She shouldn't make Toast feel like she was right. She shouldn't do that to her.

The bed creaks and moves on the other side of Slit, and Nux pokes a sleepy head over his shoulder to look at her. Gives her a bleary-eyed smile. Throws an arm over Slit's stomach and her fingers find his, interlacing warmly. She wonders if she should feel unsafe here in the bed of two men she doesn't know as well as she would like to. Can't imagine they would do anything worse than hug her too tightly. This conviction feels warm, like a comforting cup of tea or curling up under a blanket and watching the rain. It surprises her, if she's honest. She will question it, but at a later time. For now she will feel safe with them, try to get an hour or two more sleep. 

-

When she wakes up again it's too late, and Nux doesn't have time to drive her. He apologises sincerely, more than the situation calls for and she has to hug him goodbye to convey that it's fine. She will never be at risk of getting fired, even if the others will be annoyed. She expects they will anyway. 

Slit agrees to drive her when she manages to wake him up. He keeps mumbling about just another minute and falling back asleep, but she promises him free coffee with unlimited refills and to help him look for jobs on her first break and manages to haul him out of bed. He leans against her sleepily for a moment, his bulk threatening to topple them both to the floor, but then he puts arms around her and buries his face in her hair. Almost falls back asleep like that, she thinks, and she shoves him into the bathroom because she already knows she will be late. 

Her phone is filled with texts and missed calls. She sends a group message to her sisters saying that she has not been murdered and will be there in time for her shift, which is only a little bit untrue. She goes through all the messages while Slit is probably trying to sleep in the shower. They range from slightly frantic to rage to gentle worry. Her stomach turns with guilt, but it's too late to do anything about it. She has got to stop doing this. Only bringing their overzealous worry on herself.

She makes an undignified noise when he walks out, towel slung over his shoulders instead of around his waist like a normal decent person. It takes him a moment to register this, because she has several seconds to only slightly ashamedly take in the way stray droplets of water cling to his ass and other parts before he scrambles to cover himself up and apologises. As if it wasn't a very appealing sight. As if she doesn't now know that he usually walks around naked after showers. She feels a warmth low in her belly, but fights it. It's a bit early for that, in a number of ways. 

-

Slit parks the bike half a block away. 

“Do ya want me to wait a while before followin'?” he asks.

She thinks it over. Strokes the shiny metal of the bike idly. Catches him smiling at that.

“Her name's Razor Cola,” he tells her proudly. 

“She's pretty sweet looking.”

“The best,” he grins and the metal in his face glints in the morning sun.

A gull screeches overhead and Capable squints up at the sky.

“Will you come?” she asks. “They might yell at you.”

“Can take it,” he says. 

“Promise me you don't feel guilty because I'm being childish and self destructive?”

“I won't,” he promises, and pulls her into a quick hug, and she doesn't know whether he's lying or trying or if that even matters.

“'Sides,” he adds, “ya haven't reached the sleep in a park outta spite stage yet. You've not gone too far.”

He is a protective presence behind her when they enter the Green Place. All of her sisters are there, Toast behind the counter and Dag and Cheedo sat next to each other on the bottom of the stairs. An extremely uncomfortable looking young woman is waiting for a scowling Toast to hand her her coffee. She scurries out as soon as she gets it, leaving the five of them to the awkward silence that lasts exactly three seconds.

“We were so so worried-”

“Were you thinking? You could have died-”

“You can't just throw it away-”

“What if you'd been hurt-”

“Can't just walk out-”

“What's _he_ doing here-”

“Don't trust them-”

“Don't you care-”

“Do you even think-”

Capable sighs. Slit puts a hand on her lower back, comforting but also nudging her forward. He lingers by the door as she walks closer, holds up a hand to quiet her sisters.

“I'm sorry,” she tells them.

Toast scoffs.

“You're sorry? Do you know how it makes me feel when you walk out like that? When we argue and you leave and we don't hear from you until morning? When for all we know you could have been kidnapped or killed or something even worse?”

And Capable didn't consider that, she didn't think about what she was doing, not like that. And she should have, of course.

“We came an' picked her up,” Slit says quietly, “was always safe.”

This, of course, isn't quite true, but she appreciates what he's trying to do, even as her sisters glare daggers at him.

“Shut up, War Boy,” Toast says and Capable winces.

“Hey, it's not his fault. It's mine. Everything's my fault, okay? I know that and I- I really am sorry. I'm being stupid and irresponsible, I know that.”

“That's not good enough, though,” Toast says, “you can't just keep doing it and apologising over and over again.”

“It's not that we don't like your lovely biker boys,” Dag begins.

“It very much is,” Toast interjects.

“It's just that you have to talk to us, sweetling. Let us know. We trust you, we know you're not trying to hurt yourself, but you need to let us know where you go.”

“Yeah,” Capable says. “Yeah, I will...”

The bell rings then, as several customers enter, and the room is suddenly full. The tension dissipates. Dag and Cheedo walk back up into the flat. Toast deals with the customers. Capable squeezes Slit's hand in thanks before walking to the back room to get her apron and help Toast. The morning rush starts in earnest, and these days it's actually a rush. It's a little exhausting, but she's glad there's no time for talking. Slit sits at one of the tables, having brought a laptop for job searching purposes.

“Hey war boy,” Toast says in a brief quiet moment, “you gotta buy something to sit there.”

Her voice is angry, and that's not surprising. Capable wants to ask her to be nicer, but it's not the moment for it. She gets Slit's coffee ready. He fishes in his pocket for money, and under Toast's judging eyes she accepts it. Communicates to Slit wordlessly that the free coffee will come at a better time, and he nods in understanding. 

-

It's a good long while before she has the chance to take a break, but when she does she pours two cups of coffee and joins Slit by the table. He's looking helplessly at the long lists of nebulous criteria for applying for the various jobs. Clearly he's got no clue what he's doing.

“I'm sorry Toast is so angry,” she says in a voice so low it's almost a whisper.

“'S okay,” he says, gratefully accepts the coffee. “Got good reason.”

“Yeah. Should keep it directed at me, though.”

“Nah. Sometimes ya gotta do dumb dangerous shit. 'Cause that's the only way you know to deal.”

“Maybe. I don't like it.”

“Then next time ya feel like stormin' out, call us to come pick ya up an' leave a note or somethin'. Or gimme Dag's number an' I'll make sure she knows. Same thing, but ya get to not feel bad the mornin' after.”

His smile is a little smug, but she can spot the worry in his eyes. It feels good, knowing he does. Knowing Nux does too. There's something very satisfying about having someone that scary looking, that angry and badass, look at you like that. 

“Maybe I'll do that,” she says, puts a hand over his.

She wants to kiss him. She doesn't. Takes some comfort in the warmth of skin on skin as his fingers curl around hers.

“Anyway,” she says, redirecting her thoughts, “not here to talk about that. Gotta help you find a job, right? You found anything promising?”

He has not. She moves so she can see the screen proper, and if that results in her being pressed into his side then that is a completely coincidence. He's got about twenty tabs open, with ads for all kinds of jobs. 

“I like that you're keeping your options open, but I'm not sure you're qualified to be teaching neuroscience...”

“I ain't,” Slit confides, “sure I even know what it is.”

“You'd be a great teacher,” she teases, and his growl of annoyance is doing things to her, so she'd better get serious.

“Okay, so. Do you know what you want to do? Do you want to keep doing mechanic type work?”

He shrugs.

“Was always more Nux's thing. Ain't as important to me.”

“But you like driving, right?”

He nods, gets this almost dreamy look on his face. It smooths the scars, somehow. Makes him look untainted. Like they're just part of the topography of his face. Which they are, she supposes. The look suits him. His eyes are all ocean and hope. She hates to crush it.

“Taxi driver?” she suggests.

“Think people might see my face an' decide they wanna find someone doesn't look as likely to kill'em.”

“Slit.”

“I know what I look like.”

She sighs. It bothers her, but it is, she has to admit, a fair point. Anything involving customer service might not be a good idea. His personality would probably not help either. Except maybe to discourage complaints.

“What about security? Or being a bouncer or something, something where your looks and sparkling personality will help?”

Slit, generously, ignores the jab, and nods thoughtfully.

“Maybe? Doesn't sound fun, but it'd do. Least till I find somethin' else.”

“Yeah? I'm gonna, hold on, gonna help you narrow this search are- were you literally just looking at all available positions country wide?”

Slit shrugs helplessly.

“Okay. Okay, this is going to be difficult, but we'll figure something out.”


	25. Sweet Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's soundtrack is Gasoline by Halsey on reapeat ~~because oh my god have you heard badlands i've been listening to it for 72 hours straight i love it i love her~~

Capable's dreams, for once, are not bad ones, nor are they nothing but nebulous and unsettling atmospheres as soon as she wakes up. No, they are concrete, images and scenes playing out in her head and for once, they are good. Very good. Pale bodies moving against each other, lithe and graceful against solid muscle. Scarred skin on skin, dragging against each other, rhythmic movements. Blood pulsing and want burning through them. Then they are around her, moving deliciously against her and-

And she wakes up, quite frustrated. She laments the fact that her room is not hers alone, because she feels this intense want she hasn't felt in a while. Or at least hasn't felt without an awful mixture of guilt and shame. This though. This just feels good. She looks over to where Toast is sleeping, and- and no. It's early enough to get up.

She brings herself off in the shower under the hot spray of water, replaying the dream in her head. And it feels amazing and she doesn't quite understand why it should feel wrong. Doesn't feel like examining those emotions right now. Sways gently on her feet and puts a hand on the tiles to steady herself. It is, she decides, a great tragedy that she has to imagine what Nux looks like naked. She's got to do something about that.

Her feelings about sex with them are complex. She wants it, she knows that. On a physical and emotional level, but she's not sure how well she would deal with the whole thing. She's not sure she's ready. Not sure what they would want, how demanding they would be. Probably they would be considerate, she thinks. But, a tiny voice adds, they might not be. They might be like _him_ and suddenly she feels like throwing up.

No. They are not, they are not like _him_ , they never could be. Just thinking that is awful. They're good people, they wouldn't- they couldn't. And okay, maybe this is proof she isn't ready yet. She wonders if she can talk about it with them without it being weird. If there's a way to bring it up. They'll respect it, they'll respect her, won't they? This doubt inside her is awful. 

-

She is working with Dag today, thankfully. She feels too guilty to be around Toast other than in sleep. But Dag indulges her with forgetting or forgiving. Doesn't mention it at all, although Capable knows she worries too, in her way. Knows she calms Toast down like none of the others can. Dilutes her worry with her strange calmness. Capable's not sure how they fit together, but they do, perfectly. Such contrasts both in looks and personalities, but she is glad, so so glad, that they have figured out how to make each other happy.

“Is she okay?” Capable asks, handing Dag the clean mugs.

“Who, my precious flower?”

“You know who I mean, Dag.”

Dag hums, twirls her fingers in some pattern some prayer to an unknown goddess as she deliberates.

“She will be fine, I think. My Toast does not let things go easy, especially not control.”

“I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so glad she has you, though. That you have each other.”

“We all have each other.”

“True. But you know what I meant.”

“I do. The shiniest of us all, she is. So fierce, like a dragon.”

Capable laughs.

“Very small dragon, maybe.”

“Perhaps. Whose hoard is those who have become broken but who will rise out of it stronger.”

Dag paints with her fingers in the air while she talks, laying out complex images only she can see, grains of coffee falling from her fingers like dirt. Capable tries to see what she envisions, but she can't. Her mind's eye isn't strong enough. And that's okay. 

They're different, all of them, and she doesn't always understand her sisters. But she doesn't need to, really. She knows they've got each other, and that's the most important thing. Their personalities don't always mesh well, but family's like that. Even found and made and salvaged family, like them. Brought together by something awful, but staying together because they got each other through it, the escaped and grew stronger together. 

So it's not like she doesn't understand that it might seem like she's trying to move away from that. See how it seems like the salvage family isn't enough, but that's not even relevant. It's just another and separate part of her. She almost envies Dag and Toast for finding each other inside their little family unit. For finding someone they can trust with their life and whom they know and can love in that way. It seems easier, almost. Not that Capable isn't aware that out there in the real world, lesbian couples might not have it easy, but in the little bubble that is the Green Place she thinks they're lucky. 

In the last couple of weeks they've gotten more customers who stay, she's noticed. Who sit and drink their coffee and that's nice, that's good. It makes it a little more awkward to talk with whatever sister she's working with, but still. She's noticed one guy, in particular, who comes by at least twice a week to sit there for at least two hours, ear buds in and hunched over textbooks. He doesn't ever seem to study well, though, at times just staring into the same page for half an hour. But maybe that's what university is like. Capable wouldn't know. 

Half an hour before closing Nux comes in, looking tired but happy. He's got grease stains on his face and his finger tips are blackened. It's good for him being back at the work he loves, that's clear. Covered in grease and smelling like gasoline he looks more content than she's seen him since before the got kicked out of the club. She can see where his nose has itched because there are dark smudgy fingerprints. It's pretty cute. She hopes Slit can figure out a way to get to that point too.

“Hi,” he says and his smile is brighter than the sun.

There are no other customers in the café at the moment, but he looks around to check which sister she's working with before leaning over the counter to kiss her. He bumps her nose with his, then laughs at her for having grease on her face. He's so happy and sweet that her heart physically hurts. Dag seems to have picked up on it too, because she's standing, arms crossed but smiling at them in the doorway.

“Is it not time you had a break?” she asks Capable, one eyebrow raised.

“I think it is,” Capable agrees.

She gets Nux a coffee, makes a cup of tea for herself, and they sit down at the table at the back of the café. Dag sorts decorative crystals into small trays based on their spiritual significance, tries gently not to disturb Nux and Capable.

“I'm guessing the new job is going okay?” Capable asks, idly stirring her tea and watching the red swirl like ink out of the tea bag.

“It's great!” Nux says, then “mostly great. I mean, I get to work on cars, that's the most important part.”

“But?” Capable prods gently.

Nux shoves his mug around on the table, leaving diagrams in the coffee stains. She admires how long and graceful his fingers are. Good for detail work, for engines. Maybe even other things. The white ceramic is covered in dark fingerprints, obscuring the flower logo of the Green Place, but Capable refuses to acknowledge the metaphor. It's not hers and it's not right.

“It's kinda lonely,” Nux admits after a few more moments. “So used to workin' with Slit, feels wrong not to have him complain that I'm doin' somethin' wrong or handin' me wrong tools on purpose or givin' the cars ridiculous names?”

“That's what he used to do?”

Nux looks her in the eye, very serious.

“He named his bike Razor Cola.”

“That,” she agrees, “is a fair point. And I get missing him. I don't know how I'd cope working someplace other than here, away from my sisters. There aren't any more openings?”

Nux shakes his head.

“Nah. Already asked. Too many mechanics there already, only wanted me 'cause I'd impressed one of the bosses there fixin' up his kid's car once. An' 'cause I'm the best.”

“And Slit's not?” she asks.

Nux looks conflicted.

“'Course he is. Just… Just not that much at cars. Doubt he'd've got into mechanic work if we weren't raised in the club, y'know? He never really decided to do it, neither of us did, but I always liked cars more'n he did. Always understood 'em better. I don't know what he'd do given the choice. Don't think he does, either.”

“That's sad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, a bit.”

They sip their drinks quietly for a while, watching in amusement as some middle aged business man tries to hurry Dag along, not being particularly nice in the process. She offers to read his tea leaves, and he declines quite rudely. Nux gives Capable a look that says want me to get him out, but she shakes her head. Dag's telling the guy, at length, about the nuances of the grittiness of his aura. How that will affect his home life, and he throws the coins on the counter so they bounce over the edge, littering the floor at Dag's feet. She slams the cup down in front of him so a few droplets speckle his pristine white shirt. He huffs something about what fabric it is a vows never to return. Dag thanks him with a mockingly sweet smile. Capable gives her an I feel you type look.

“Still,” Capable says, “I'm glad you got back on your feet so quick, and that you got the kind of job you wanted.”

Nux nods, corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Maybe keep your phone on, though. Slit's sent me so many dumb internet cat pictures. I don't even like cats.”

“Yeah, maybe I'll do that. Feel a bit more like he's there to annoy me that way,” Nux says, his whole face crinkling with a fond smile.

“Whatever helps,” Capable says.

She's not sure she'll get over how much the guys love each other. As a separate thing than how she feels about them, how they might feel about her. She thinks as long as they're together, everything might be alright. Of course, she would prefer it if she were involved too. And as much as they reassure her that they absolutely want her there she can't help but feel a bit like an intruder. She tries not to. She feels guilty enough about other aspects of this whole thing, whatever it is, already. This whole relationship, which it is, she supposes.

“Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?” Nux asks. “Look thoughtful.”

“You,” she admits, looking down into her tea.

“Yeah?”

He sounds excited. She struggles to phrase her thoughts.

“You two, how… How good you seem together. I'm just? I don't know. I'm ridiculously grateful that you always had each other?”

Nux looks like he's been hugged by a puppy, face all squished into happiness. He grabs her hand in both of his, squeezes it tight. His hands are so warm. He looks like he doesn't know what to say, but she can almost see his pupils become heart shaped, so she gets the general idea.

“Think you broke your sweet puppy,” Dag calls from the other side of the café, and Capable mumbles at her to shut up but doesn't look away from Nux.

“Ya know how much we, I mean,” Nux starts, falters nervously, cheeks showing the faintest hint of pink.

“Yeah?” she asks and encourages.

“Want ya to be a part of it, yeah?”

And Capable can't quite control the way her face contorts into what she's sure is the most ridiculous excited grin at that, and she ducks her head, hides behind her hair a bit, like a shy teenager. It's absurd. She's a grown adult woman, she shouldn't react like this, but she does, and Nux eyes are shining at her and she can't help it. She can feel Dag's amused smile from the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” she manages to say.

And then, well, it's not much a choice, is it? She's got to get up and move to the other side of the table and grab Nux's face and kiss him soundly. Feel him try to lean upwards into her, his hands settling on her waist. He pulls her closer, and she's barely having to lean down to kiss this ridiculous giraffe man and Dag's telling them to get a room, just loud enough so they can hear. Nux smiles into the kiss, rough textured lips moving so beautifully against hers. She breaks for air, presses a kiss to his forehead. His arms are still around her and it feels so good, so right. She looks down into his eyes for a moment, then up at the clock hung on the wall. It's another ten minutes till they close.

“Go,” Dag says. “I'll be fine for the last minutes, and you're clearly going to be no help. Go find your sweet smiley face and be a happy trio.”

“Dag, did you know you're my favourite sister?”

“Oh yes,” she says, “I'm everyone's favourite sister.”

Capable kisses her cheek on her way past to deposit her apron and get her jacket and phone. 

“Tell them not to worry? I'll text whether I come home this time, I promise.”

“Yes yes, go, go and be happy and leave me to languish alone.”

“Your girlfriend is literally one floor away.”

“Our love is separated by endless oceans of time and space,” Dag says, and Capable doesn't know what to do with that, just tells her goodbye.

She follows Nux out the door, and he grabs her hands, and she's right back to feeling like a shy, lovestruck teenager. But she doesn't mind so much. She thinks she can let herself just feel good today. Not guilt about any aspect of anything. Nux gets onto the bike before her, hands her the helmet, and he looks so good that she has to kiss him again, there's no alternative. He seems fine with this, holding her close and muttering sweet inarticulate things into her mouth. He tastes too sweet, like the coffee he prefers.


	26. Reflections

Roaring through the streets in the harsh glow of the street lights Capable is starting to understand why the guys like their bikes so much. The wind is whipping her hair behind her, and is somehow in her face despite her pressing it into Nux's back. Her hands are tight around him, for both closeness and safety. It's still frightening, a little bit, but mostly exciting.

When they come to a halt outside the boys' flat, Slit's bike is missing. Nux frowns at this.

“Was supposed to be home,” he says. “Texted him earlier.”

There's no clue as to where he is in the flat, either.

“He'll probably be back soon,” Capable says.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Nux agrees but he's still frowning.

Capable shrugs off her jacket, puts hands on Nux's shoulders. Leans up to kiss him. He lets himself be distracted. Tangles his fingers in her hair, messing up the careful braid. Her fingers run along the scars on his cheekbones, the death's head modifications. Makes herself not think of it as something that a past version of Nux did to himself. Because it's part of him, intrinsically, just as much as an accidental scar would be. And it's not the same as Angharad's scars. Those were inflicted for very different reasons.

They wind up in a warm tangle on the sofa, because, really, it's the only proper piece of furniture other than the bed. There's no table except the coffee table, no chairs anywhere. The kitchen is bare and seems largely unused, though it's still, impressively, pretty filthy. She doesn't mind. It feels right, somehow. Fits the guys in some weird way that a pristine place never could. The walls have posters of motorcycles that seem almost pornographic in nature, despite in theory quite innocently depicting the vehicles with carefully framed detail shots. It is clear, though, that whoever photographed them greatly cares for their subjects.

It's an unspoken agreement that they're sort of waiting for Slit to show up, and they turn on the TV. Capable sits with her back against Nux's chest, and that feels oddly intimate. A bit more than they might be ready for, perhaps. But it feels good, and he is warm against her and one of his arms curl around her. They flip past bad reality shows, stopping long enough to mock the people involved and their hair style choices. Nux plays distractedly with her braid, pulling short lengths of it out and trying and failing to make miniature braids. It's cute and ridiculous and he's very very bad at it. She grabs his hand, holds it and turns it over in her own. There's patches of sticky dark grease in the lines of his palm and stuck under his fingernails.

“Can you tell me more about you two, about how that happened?” she asks.

“Uh, sure. Yeah,” Nux says, fingers fidgeting with hers as he thinks.

“I mean, Slit said he told ya how we grew up together, yeah?”

“He mentioned you were foster kids together, that Ace took you in after that, but he's not gone into very much detail.”

“He wouldn't. But yeah, that's what happened. He was eight and I was seven. So, ya know, obviously I looked up to him a bit-”

“Aww,” Capable says, pulling his hand up and placing a kiss on his knuckles. “That's kind of adorable.”

“Was not,” Nux protests. “Anyway, idiot didn't deserve it. Was kind of a mean kid.”

“I would never have guessed.”

“Yeah, he'd… We'd both, I guess, been through some shit. He just… Let it change him more. I mean, he's got to have been a sweet innocent kid at some point.”

“I don't know,” Capable muses, “I can easily imagine his first word being 'fuck'.”

Nux chuckles against her.

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I was littler and he was the cool older kid, yeah? And it kinda stayed like that. When Ace took us in, he was always the one who was old enough to get to do stuff 'round the club, an' I was too little, yeah, so of course I was angry, and he was so fuckin' smug ya wouldn't believe...”

“I absolutely would believe.”

“Fair enough. But a bit later, maybe the next day, he would always sneak me in and let me try the dangerous tools, or show me how to start one of the bikes or whatever, right, and he would always make sure I didn't hurt myself or things, so y'know. There was maybe a tiny bit of hero worship goin' on there.”

She turns her head to look at him, and he's smiling, lost in thought and she presses her lips to his jaw all soft and sweet. He's better at this than Slit is, she thinks. Or maybe he doesn't mind so much. Maybe his versions of the memories are sweeter.

“And it kept bein' that way in school an' things, what with us livin' together an' all. I think Slit got a lot of shit for hangin' out with me when we were kids, 'cause I was so little, 'cause I was too hyper and too dumb to see when people got tired of me. But he did anyway, 'cause I didn't have a lot of friends. I'm not sure he did either, but he was bigger and tougher lookin' an' that counts for a lot when you're ten.”

He takes a breath, thinks for a moment. Capable wants to give his child self a hug. Settles for his now self by tugging his arms around her and leaning back more, head into his neck. He holds her tight and buries his face in her hair for a little while before continuing.

“An' the thing is, no one ever joked about him bein' gay for me or anythin', 'cause everyone thought we were brothers, right. Which, I don't know, it never felt like that, but I suppose to some it would. So I think it took us longer than it might have to even consider that we liked each other like that, ya know? So we were what, thirteen an' fourteen, maybe? Play fightin' or real fightin', I don't remember. But we sorta accidentally kissed. And then we sorta less accidentally did it again.”

“That's so sweet! Except the fighting. Mostly that's really sweet.”

“Yeah. Led to some real confusin' days, though, of not talkin', avoidin' each other. Which is hard when you share a room. But we talked, at last, as well as kids that age can. Figured that we liked the kissing part. That we could keep doin' that, but only in our room. Other things too, y'know. But secret, because we'd picked up on it by then, what the club would think about that. What others might.”

“Pretty fucked up that you had to worry about that stuff.”

“Yeah, but mostly it was just shine. We tried datin' different girls an' things, both of us, but it was never too sad when it didn't work, when the dumpin' happened after a week or two, 'cause we had each other, right. Like a… A best friends who share a room with a lot of benefits type thing? Which, I gotta tell ya, is a pretty sweet deal to horny teenage boys.”

Which makes Capable snort laugh in a particularly unattractive way.

“And ya know, no break up with anyone can really hurt, 'cause what relationship could match up to your best mate who's also your fuckbuddy and who you start thinkin' might be the love of your life?”

“Yeah,” Capable says and her smile is faltering a little, and although Nux can't see her face he does seem to catch her tone.

“I meant, back then, it was different..”

“No, I know, but you're right, it's not the same, and it never will be. But maybe that's okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, kisses the top of her head.

“Anyway, we both like you. Never happened before, both of us likin' the same person. An' I know we haven't known each other all that long, but… But we want us to?”

“I feel so special,” she says, tone jokey, but sentiment serious.

“Good,” he says, craning his neck awkwardly so he can kiss her cheek.

There's a lot of touching, Capable notices. She's not quite sure when casual kisses became a thing between them, not just the vaguely ceremonial good night kisses or the deep intense ones, but small kisses, in place of sentiments. Sweet and no less meaningful than the others, but brief and natural. It's weird, she feels, that she hasn't really noticed that until now, but mostly she likes it. Likes that they're that much at ease with each other. It must flow over from Slit and Nux's fairly relaxed and touchy nature, and the thought of that, of her being included in that, makes her heart flutter. 

“But you, I mean, that's it you've been together for what, ten years? That's pretty impressive.”

“There were bad bits,” Nux says. “After Slit's accident, when his face got fucked up, that was bad. Couldn't talk for weeks an' weeks. He got pretty angry. Not at me, not really, but he took it out on me 'cause no one else would put up with him throwing things at 'em when he couldn't say what he needed to. Which was often. An' he was angry, a bit, I think, 'cause he lost his face. I mean, he showed ya the photos of him before, yeah?”

“He did. Didn't seem to want to, though.”

“No. 'Cause he's all scared you'd think he's less good lookin' now. Because he was this great lookin' young guy, right, but now all everyone who looks at him can see is the scars, an' that bothers him. More'n he'll ever admit, I think.”

“Shit,” Capable says, “I can sort of understand, but… I mean, he still very much is great looking. I saw him naked by accident, the scars don't detract at all. Any of them.”

And now she's blushing, because she hadn't quite meant it to come out like that. Nux lets out a surprised laugh.

“Ya did? Fucker didn't tell me!”

“Think he was too sleepy to really realise,” she says, shuffling her head so her bright red hair obscures her too hot cheeks.

“Oh my god. That's amazing,” Nux says, still sounding far too amused.

“An' I get what you're saying, yeah, his face is great, all of him's great, but that ain't gonna stop him feelin' that way, y'know? Love should cure all insecurities an' whatever, but it doesn't. 'Specially not when the source of those came later. 'S always gonna be there, ya know? Ya see people starin' at him on the street, an' of course they oughta be lookin' at that great face, but they ain't. Or not all of it. An' that's shit, but there's nothin' you can fix. An' I try an' tell him he looks great, but it feels weird, it's not the kind of thing we have, y'know. 'S not how we talk, not really. I think he feels it too, the weird. But I think he knows.”

“The way he talks about you he definitely does,” she says, hoping it's true.

“Hope so,” he echoes her thoughts. “So no, yeah, that was a bad time. Was bad when I was sick, too. Slit didn't deal well. Don't think I did either. He didn't… He tried to be around as much as he could, but I think it terrified him.”

She turns to look at Nux, and he's not meeting her eyes. His fingers fiddle with the frayed threads of a hole in his jeans.

“He wasn't there for you?” she asks, anger and incredulity apparent.

“He was, I mean. He tried. He got scared and disappeared a little while, an'… An' that was hard. For him too. He still tries to make up for that, he feels shit about it, I know. He tries to tell me sometimes. An' I know he does his best to be better. He's just not good at sayin' so.”

“Still kinda shitty of him.”

“He knows.”

They sit for a while, each contemplating. It's not like any of this is ground breaking information. Not really. Slit's not the most responsible, she knows that. But leaving Nux alone, that doesn't sound like him. Maybe he's gotten a little more devoted since then? But that seems wrong, too. He's clearly always cared about Nux, ever since they were little. But even if he couldn't deal with the thought of losing him, it doesn't seem like running away would make sense. Maybe that's why he did it. Maybe that's why he's so understanding of her irresponsible ways of coping. Because he's been there and worse.

“I'm glad it's better now,” she says eventually. “Glad you work things out a bit faster when you have to. Even if it involves more sleeping rough.”

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, not my finest moment. Or his. Maybe next time we can have you come talk sense into both of us?”

“I'll do my best,” she promises.

-

Some time later they hear stomping outside the door, keys being jammed into the lock. They are aggressive noises. Slit comes in, and it takes her a moment to notice, because he's wearing all black and has a hood pulled down low over his face, but he's covered in blood. His knuckles, she sees, are shredded. When he pulls the hood up there's blood trickling down from a cut in his lip, and one of the staples is half ripped out and crusty dried blood surrounds it. There are still sticky wet stains on his jeans and hoodie that gleam unsettlingly in the warm light of the flat. Slit frowns, like he's not expecting them to be there.

“What the fuck, Slit?” Nux asks, but not with the urgency Capable feels the sight before them should inspire. 

“Please tell me that's not all your blood,” Capable says, but the alternative isn't all that appealing.

Slit grunts in reply. Tugs off the hoodie and tosses it into the improvised dirty laundry pile outside the bedroom door. Kicks off his shoes.

“What the hell have you been doin'?” Nux asks, and there's impressive anger in his voice.

Slit looks at him, eyes cold.

“Met Morsov,” he says.

“You promised not to go lookin' for him.”

“Didn't. Ran into him. Fucker started it.”

“Shit, you didn't put him in the fuckin' hospital, did ya?”

Slit shrugs. His once white t-shirt is mostly deep red. She can see the outline of scars where it's clinging to his skin. 

“Ain't my fault he's a shit fighter.”

“Fuck, Slit.”

“He'll live.”

“An' ya think it's gonna be alright? Think no one's gonna care?”

“It's fuckin' Morsov, mate. No one gives a shit about him. Specially not after what he said.”

“What? Say about what?”

Capable gets her phone out of her pocket, sends a group text to her sisters.

Capable: Things complicated. Be a while.

Then,

Capable: will text when know 4sure.

Nux has gotten up, gone over to Slit and staring at him hard, like he's trying to scare him. Using the extra inch or so he's got on Slit. Their hands are tight fists.

“Didya know it was him broke into the club? Knocked me out? He ain't got the club at his back any more. Don't know what he did with the shit he stole, info or whatever, don't know who got it, but I know the Immortan ain't-”

And Capable doesn't hear anything after that.


	27. Conflict Resolution and How To Fuck It Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ur reactions fuel me also fukk posting from mobile less than ideal

“So what the fuck you wanna do about that?” Nux is asking, but Slit doesn't listen.

There's something wrong with Capable, she's just sitting there staring, shaking a little. He nudges Nux, who looks like he's gonna argue, but his face softens into worry when he looks at her.

“Think she's alright?” Slit whispers. “Was it somethin' I said?”

“Probably,” Nux whispers back and Slit glares at him.

They edge closer to her, but she doesn't react. Slit sits down on his knees in front of her, grabs her hand and tries to make her look him in the eye.

“What's wrong?”

She wrenches her hand away from him. He moves back, confused. He can sense Nux standing right behind him, a hand wavering near his shoulder.

“You work for him?”

Her voice is shaky, her hands clenched into fists. She's staring straight ahead, pointedly avoiding them, like she can't bear it. It's confusing. She wasn't this angry when he walked in just minutes ago, and

“What?” Nux asks.

“The Immortan, you said the Immortan. That vile old man with the fucked up breathing mask, right? How many guys can call themselves that in this town?”

She talks slow, like she's got to concentrate real hard to keep her voice calm, to not shout or cry.

“He runs the war boys,” Nux says. “Practically the gas town boys and the bullet farmers too, the two leaders were war buddies of his. But how do you-”

“How could you work for that monster? How could you stand by while he-”

She's breathing hard, holding back sobs of anger.

“While what?” Slit asks, “what did he ever do to-”

And Nux kicks him, hard. Which is unfair, because what did he do? Or what did he do in the last minute, anyway. And he doesn't get whatever it is Nux is trying to say.

“I have to go,” Capable says. “Right now I can't-”

She gets up, stumbles, picks up her jacket and is half way out the door before Slit grabs her wrist, as carefully as he can.

“I'll give you a ride. Know you're angry but- Promised your sisters, yeah? You can punch me or whatever when we get there, avoid us, but...”

Nux is making angry frustrated sounds, Slit can hear, wanting to say something. Capable pulls her hand to her, and is quiet for a second, still not looking back. Then nods, quickly. Walks down ahead of him while he gets his jacket and keys.

“We didn't know,” Nux says, loud enough for her to hear and she pauses, then continues down.

Slit and Nux exchange glances before Slit follows her, loaded and confused. Clearly Nux's picked up on something Slit hasn't. Which is always the fucking case, isn't it. But that can wait.

Capable doesn't look at him when he comes down. She's standing, shivering, next to Razor Cola. He wants to offer her his jacket, put his arms around her, but it's clearly the wrong time for that. The roar of the engine covers up the silence. Her arms barely touch him. Just enough so she doesn't fall off. He concentrates on the road.

He stops closer to the café this time. Wants her sisters to know she's not lying about staying safe. Wants them not to worry so much. If that's even a possibility any more.

She gets off the bike, managing to avoid touching him in the process. He clings to Razor Cola, fingers tight, to keep himself from reaching out for her. He looks up at her, and he must look incredibly pathetic and clueless because she looks almost pitying, though the lingering distaste has not faded.

“Did you really not know what he did to us?”

And then. Then it clicks, at last, for him. That the Immortan, that the guy he's spent more than a decade looking up to, near worshipping from afar, was the one who tried to break Capable. Tried to break all of them. Partially succeeded. But it doesn't make sense? The guys talked about him having girlfriends, plural, despite, honestly, being kind of old and disgusting looking, but he was chrome as fuck, they never questioned it. Never thought-

“No,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

The street is quiet except for the patter of rain starting to fall. Drops collect in her eyelashes and she blinks them away. Pulls up the hood on her jacket. Her eyes are still hard.

“I didn't know he was your leader. Would've never talked to you if I did.”

“Capable, I'm- we didn't know, I swear, I- Fuck. Fuck. I'm sorry.”

She nods. He's not sure if it's acceptance, acknowledgement, condemnation. And then she turns and walks away. He watches her till she disappears inside the café, never looking back at him. Rain drips down his face. It feels appropriate.

It's several minutes before he starts the bike up again. He drives slow, his mind numb. The rain stings his face where the staple's come loose. Washes the blood from his hands. Or makes it run watery down his sleeves, which feels close enough.

It doesn't work. It doesn't make sense. Why would someone like the Immortan need to force women? Unless he- No. No, it doesn't make any fucking sense. He's got to ask Nux. He'll know what to do. Always does.

“You figure it out yet, ya slow piece of shit?” Nux asks, but his tone is more tired than angry.

Slit nods. Doesn't look him in the eye. Tosses his stuff back down on the floor, back where it belongs. Sits down heavy on the bed. Nux swears gently to himself, then walks into the bathroom, emerges with the first aid kit. Turns the bedroom light on.

“C'mon, face up so I can fix it.”

Slit obeys, and he can't avoid Nux's gaze like this. But Nux doesn't say anything. Ignores Slit's hiss of pain as he cleans the cuts and ungently presses the staple back into place. Frowns at his handiwork, then sticks a bandaid over it so it won't pop back out.

“Still want it, yeah?”

“Yeah. Wouldn't look right.”

It stings when he moves his face, but that's okay. Nux sits down next to him, grabs his hands to fix those too. Does so in silence.

“What do we do?” Slit asks.

“I don't know.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Nux finishes cleaning his shredded knuckles, but Slit leaves his hand in Nux's lap. Needs some reassurance, though of what he's not sure. That this new knowledge doesn't make them terrible people? That they're not accomplice to the Immortan being that fucked up?

It's hard, in his mind, merging the idea of a guy keeping women locked up, like you see every few years on TV, some people finally being rescued from some basement, bewildered neighbours looking on. If that's what's happened. If that's not just him guessing, but it's what it sounds like. It's hard to come to terms with that being the guy he's idolised for years. The badass leader of this society outside of society. The guy who gives them a chance, let's them do something important while he watches over them.

As long as Slit can remember there's been posters of him on the walls of the garage. One in Ace's house too, hung like a photo of royalty, with equal parts respect and slight embarrassment. The Immortan with his fancy breathing apparatus, that made him sound like Darth Vader. Gazing at them like a distant but benevolent king. And now he's a perverted old man, using his power to capture women, to keep them as slaves or something? Slit feels an urge to take a blowtorch to the back of his neck. Burn away the guy's symbol. It'll be ages before they've got enough money to get the brands covered up properly.

“You think she'll forgive us?” Slit asks and he can hear the disgustingly pleading tone of his voice.

Nux shrugs.

“Ain't done anythin'. We're not to blame.”

“We've done plenty of shit. But we shoulda known, somehow.”

“We couldn't,” Nux says, but there's no conviction there.

“Ya think Ace knows?”

“No. He couldn't, could he? He wouldn't?”

“He can't've. Fuck, I can't believe this shit.”

Slit sighs and lets himself fall back down onto the mattress. Nux flops down next to him, and together they stare at the cracks in the ceiling.

“Ya know last year, that break in at the warehouse?”

“Yeah?”

“When a crew went out, when all we ever heard was that someone stole a bunch of stuff from the Immortan? Think that was...”

“Fuck, Slit, no? I don't think so, it couldn't've been?”

“You were supposed to be on that crew, yeah, only you got sicker?”

Nux nods.

“An' you stayed.”

“Yeah. Couldn't- Couldn't not. But it mighta been them, right? Timing fits. Everyone bein' weird an' not talkin' 'bout it any fits.”

“Fuck,” Nux says, sighs again. “When did our lives get so fucked up?”

“Always have been,” Slit points out and Nux shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“Do we try an' talk to her? Or wait for her?”

“Wait, I think. At least a while. Might never wanna see us again.”

Slit rolls onto his side, legs twisted awkwardly, so his chin rests against Nux's shoulder. Nux turns his head to look at him.

“I know,” Slit mutters.

“We got each other, we'll live,” Nux says, but Slit can tell he's not okay.

“Yeah, but I… I don't want to. Not not wanna live, I mean but. I don't want it to be just us?”

Slit frowns, not sure quite what it is he's feeling. It's far far past an infatuation with the cute barista. He wants Capable here. Wants her here all the time, like Nux is. Not in a creepy way, not in the way the Immortan wanted her there all the time, never that. He wants her to want to be with them. To forgive them and to come back and watch bad movies in a too tight tangle of bodies on the sofa and to kiss those soft lips and listen to her talk. To have her and Nux curled up on either side of him in this bed, to have them so close that everything feels alright.

“Me either,” Nux says. “It was so nice today, before...”

“Before I came back,” Slit finishes for him.

“Not because ya came back, asshole, 'cause ya came back covered in Morsov's blood. Which is disgusting. Ya need to shower and maybe burn those clothes.”

Slit groans.

“Fine. Fuck.”

He eases himself off the bed, dragging a hand down Nux's chest and stomach. Nux looks sternly up at him. Slit rolls his eyes, pads into the bathroom and peels his clothes of, dried blood cracking and turning to dark red Morsov dust. Yeah. This t-shirt is definitely dead to him.

When he walks out of the bathroom, warm and clean and with a towel around his shoulders, because seeing him naked usually cheers Nux up, Nux has fallen asleep. Right where he is, legs on floor and clothes on. Slit is slightly insulted. Sits down on the bed next to him, nudges him till he blinks in confusion.

“Wha'?”

“You're on my side. An' wearin' too many clothes.”

Nux groans and rubs his eyes. Stretches and gets up long enough to toss his clothes onto the floor. Shuffles in to his side of the bed and pulls the sheets up over them. They lay facing each other, neither wanting to see the brands on their necks.

“Whatever happens, whatever she decides,” Nux says, “she called you hot today.”

“Damn right,” Slit says, but he feels warm inside.

“Said you were walkin' around naked again.”

“Yeah,” Slit says, “Yeah I- it was early, I didn't mean to, ya know...”

“Think she appreciated it.”

“Good,” he says, and edges closer to Nux.

He bumps their foreheads together softly. The world feels wrong, still. Like something's broken and doubts and regrets are seeping in through the cracks. Guilt he can't quite place or define leaking into his consciousness. It's deeply unsettling. He lets Nux's warm breath against his face calm him. Focuses on the feeling of a slender arm thrown over his side. Reaches a hand to rest against the raised V8 on Nux's chest. Solid and real and not filled with some sinister hidden purpose.


	28. It's All Coming Apart Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are Talks

“Capable, you can't just sit there. Come on, you've got to-”

“I'm fine,” Capable insists, ushering Cheedo away.

She is very, very far from fine. She might never be fine again. Cheedo backs away, surrender hands up, but she's clearly not pleased. Capable returns to staring at the wall. Its blankness and lack of texture mimics her emotional state, she thinks, and cringes at herself.

It's been 54 hours since she walked away from Slit and into the Green Place and she hasn't left yet. They've not been by, thankfully. They respect that, at least. She hasn't talked to her sisters about it yet, and so they worry. She doesn't want to hear what they have to say about it, although they have a right to know. She thinks she should have had, too. She thumbs up the short conversation on her phone.

Capable: U knew.

Furiosa: Yes

Capable: Y didn't you tell me?  
Capable: ??

There's been no reply yet. She sent the last text six hours ago and Furiosa has yet to reply. She doesn't know what that means. Perhaps nothing, perhaps that she's busy. Or that she was trying to spare them the knowledge, but why would she. To not scare them because the only place big enough that Furiosa could afford is only minutes from the War Boy headquarters? That seems bound to fail, that has failed. Quite miserably.

Capable doesn't know what to do, what to feel. Doesn't know if she can ever look at the brand on the back of the guys' necks without vomiting. Without seeing that horrible face, hearing that mechanical heavy breathing. Feeling it on the back of her neck, those hands holding her arms down and him- She shudders. Even thinking about it is dangerous now. The images won't leave her. She'd been doing so well, managing to to bury it all away somewhere, lock it up in a box in the back of her mind but now the memories won't go away. They play on repeat in her mind until she can smell the strange powder he wore, feel strands of that long dried out hair tickle her back and shoulders. She considers going back to the therapist, asking for something to make her forget, something to make her numb. But the stern women only ever told her that she had to face her feelings, deal with them proper and that's the shittiest advice Capable's ever gotten.

She's avoided thinking about Slit and Nux's roles in all this. She wants to believe them when they said they never knew what the old man did to her and her sisters, but she doesn't trust herself to be objective about it. She doesn't trust herself not to want to forgive them too easily. And whatever the case may be, they've still been his lackeys for years, grown up in that society. Imprinted with his twisted values, and she's not sure whether that can be unlearned. She's not sure whether they want to unlearn.

And it's not. She knows it's not them violated her. Not them that killed Angharad, or as good as. But they're not innocent. She knew this, just didn't know how. And they claim they didn't either, and if that's the case. A small part of her says that if that's the case, then nothing's really changed. They're still the same and she's still the same and maybe it can work out. But that's not right. Everything's changed. 

-

Furiosa walks into her room that evening, sits down on the edge of Toast's bed. Toast and Dag and Cheedo are all huddled in the other bedroom, respectfully not listening, but also being a lot more quiet than they usually would. Furiosa's hands are clasped in her lap, one metal and rough, made for work, the other soft and living. 

“They weren't with the crew that chased us,” Furiosa says.

“What's that matter?”

“It doesn't.”

“Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you...”

“I warned you to stay away.”

“But you- you didn't say you weren't-”

Capable interrupts herself with a choked sob.

“You let me believe it could...”

Furiosa is looking at her with a mixture of pity and sadness. Slight tilt of head and minuscule narrowing of her eyes. Her flesh arm twitches.

“Seemed to make you happy.”

Capable looks up at her again and she's not even trying to stop or hide the tears streaming down her face, the way her eyes sting. Her cheeks are hot and red and soaking wet and she wants to scream wants to throw something at Furiosa, at anyone. 

“Why would you let me believe they could be good when you knew, when you knew all along?”

“They aren't the worst of them,” Furiosa says. “It might not be too late.”

And Capable doesn't know what to say or do and her breathing hitches with sobs. 

“Get the fuck out,” she says.

Furiosa owns the place, but Capable doesn't care. She's not leaving again, leaving only leads to Bad Things. Furiosa looks at her hard, but gets up and leaves, closes the door behind her. Capable curls up, tears soaking into her pillow. 

-

She sits down at a table with Dag, taking a break. There aren't any customers, it's a quiet time of day. Dag pours them both tea. It's been two days since Furiosa came by, and Capable isn't feeling any better, although she's managed to behave more like usual in front of her sisters. Her mood hasn't risen above sullen yet, though, and they all notice. They've been getting better at not asking her what's wrong, though. She suspects they assume she broke up with the guys which. Is not entirely wrong, but also not quite right. 

There was no final announcement, and her gut is telling her that that's not what happened. That she doesn't want that to be what happened. But then, what she wants to happen is to go back, to not know. And that surprises her, because she should want for herself not to have started anything with the guys. And that's what she absolutely cannot trust herself with, that shard of affection that makes knowing so much worse. 

Dag is watching her from across the table, head tilted like she's confused, or trying to understand. She doesn't ask, though. Capable sips her tea, winces, and squeezes too much honey into it. Dag tsks and Capable rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” she says, at last. “Fine.”

Dag raises her eyebrows in a I didn't say anything gesture. Wide eyes looking innocent while she drinks her bitter tea with an enthusiasm Capable finds herself suspicious of. 

“I- They… They told me. Told me who their boss used to be.”

Dag's face is unreadable. She fidgets with her mug so her jewellery’s clinking breaks up the silence, rings clacking loudly on ceramic. 

“That it's _him_.”

“Oh,” is all Dag says.

“Oh? Is that it? Is that all you have to say?” 

Dag shrugs.

“They had his image painted on their necks, I thought you knew.”

“His symbol? He never… I hadn't seen it before.”

“There was a ring he sometimes wore,” Dag begins, staring into the air right above Capable's shoulder, “had that symbol. Shiny little thing. He hit me hard enough to leave a bruise in its shape. Was there on my belly for days. Think that might be what killed the beginnings of Joe junior. Never quite forgot, anyway.”

Capable looks down into her tea.

“I kept my eyes shut,” she says. “Tried to not see so the images couldn't come when he wasn't there. That didn't really work out.”

“Does it change anything for ya?”

“How could it not?”

Dag shrugs again.

“They're not him.”

“But they've worked for him, they've _looked up to him_ for most of their lives, how doesn't that fuck them up, how doesn't that make them so much worse?”

“They're the exact same people as they were a week ago, and you seemed keen enough then.”

Capable frowns.

“I guess that's true, but still. Anyway, if you knew what they were, if you knew who ruled them, why've you been so supportive?”

“They appeared to make you happy. And that seemed more important.”

And it's kind of hard for Capable to argue with that. She's glad Dag's not talking about their auras showing their true natures or any of that spiritual stuff. But Dag knows it's not Capable's thing, and she's glad she respects that.

“How did you know I'd be safe with them?”

“Didn't. But you didn't either. They were still scary, yeah? It's not my thing, but you wanted to trust them, and it wasn't my place not to let you. That's the important part of freedom. You gotta choose what to do with it, and no one can do that for you. And you chose to trust them. And now you've gotta make that choice again.”

-

She wakes covered in sweat and shaky. It's dark, middle of the night. The bed is cold and clammy. She can feel clawed hands around her, reaching for her, invisible or shadow-made. She shudders. Sheets rustle, and when she looks over she can see Toast looking at her, concerned and sleepy.

“You okay?” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes.

Capable shakes her head. Toast yawns, stretches.

“Okay,” she says. “Come on.”

She gets out of bed, throws on a robe, and tugs Capable up to do the same. Gently leads Capable out into the living room, shoves her carefully down on the sofa and disappears into the tiny kitchen. Capable curls up in the corner, hugs her knees. She's had the nightmares every night this week. Waking up in a panic. Feeling trapped and uneasy. 

A minute or two later a steaming mug of tea is pressed into her hands and the sofa squeaks as Toast sits down.

“You doing okay?”

Capable looks at her, shrugs helplessly.

“Not really.”

“Dag told me what you talked about. Told me what you found out.”

“Did everyone know?” Capable asks.

“I didn't. Don't think Cheedo did. Would have been a lot more adamant you stay away from them if I had.”

Capable laughs. The faint glow from the street light outside makes reading Toast's face hard. The shadows are misleading.

“But it's over now, right? You're done with them?”

Capable doesn't answer. Doesn't know what she'd say. Toast would not approve of her doubt. 

“Can you believe Furiosa didn't tell us?” she says instead.

“Didn't want us to be scared. Wanted us to have time to heal, even if the place wasn't the best.”

“You idolise her.”

“She rescued us. How could I not?”

And Capable has no retort. Because she undeniably did.

“Still. She could have been more specific in her warnings.”

“Would that have made you listen?”

“Of course! How can you even ask that? I wouldn't have talked to them.”

She's not sure, but she thinks Toast looks sceptical. Which is unfair.

“I warned you plenty. Furiosa did too. You knew they weren't safe.”

Capable sips her tea, bites back the angriest of her answers.

“I'm sorry,” she says through gritted teeth because the bitterness hasn't left her yet. “I wish I could be like you, I really do. I wish I could do the sensible thing and not make bad decisions. But clearly I can't.”

“Cape-”

“No, I get that you're glad I finally see the error of my ways, I do.”

“You don't have to do this,” Toast says quietly.

But Capable can't not. She loves Toast, but sometimes talking to her is so hard, they look at things so differently. And it kills Capable to argue with her as much as she does. But Toast brings out this sibling spite in her, for whatever reason. This knowing better and being better at everything. That she's more like Furiosa than the others, perhaps. More like her in temperament. Full of distrust which Capable can't help think must be sad, even if she appears to be right much of the time. Maybe this is what really makes them sisters.

“I'm sorry,” Capable says again, but softly, genuinely.

“It's okay,” Toast says, hand on her shoulder, “you'll be okay. We all will. They're out of your life now, it'll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of conflicted about this. About whether everyone is true to themselves here. Clearly the character development's skewed, not what it was in the film. They are Saved and Free but _he_ is still out there, and they don't have the knowledge that he is dead and gone to build upon. Perhaps they should be less considerate. Perhaps Furiosa should.


	29. Text

Slit: hey. sry 2 contact u but do u no if Cape still mad?  
Slit: she say anything?  
Slit: please  
Slit: it's been 2 weeks

Dag: needs time. B patient little lizard

Slit: ??  
Slit: ok

Slit lets the phone slip out of his hand and down onto the floor. Leans back on the armrest and stares up at the ceiling. It's hard to keep from calling or texting or showing up at the café. He's wanted to so many times. Nux has too, he knows, though he hasn't explicitly said so. They've talked of it, discussed what they can do to fix it, but there isn't much, not that they can figure out. How do they fix where they come from?

They can't, of course. He knows that, Capable knows that. Can't take back their years of loyalty and devotion to the man who hurt her. That won't go away. Not ever. And he understands, he does, how hard that is for her. He tries to understand, anyway. Seeing that old man's symbol stabbed inkily into their necks, now that she knows the image for what it is, must be a horrible reminder.

Nux and Slit got the tattoos when they were quite young, in their mid teens. It can't have been legal, Slit thinks. They sat in the basement of the parlour listening to a radio screeching out bad metal as the burning steering wheel was made part of their bodies, part of them, forever. They faced each other, made a game out of not grimacing at the pain. Helped each other keep the tattoos clean after. Hard place to see on yourself. Right now he's glad of that. And relieved that the lines are gently swimming out of focus. Will be coverable when they can afford it.

If there was ever any question of them returning to the club, being let back in, that's gone now. They've thrown the jackets into the trash. Whether or not Capable will forgive them, take them back, they can't knowingly go back to the club. They can't follow orders from the Immortan any more. They discussed it. The club's never been anything but violent and criminal and very enthusiastic about motorcycles, but somehow that's different. The violence was against other clubs, other people who'd signed up for the life same as them. There wasn't any total removal of freedom, any violation that fundamental. Even to Slit, to a self described pretty bad person, that's unforgivable, that's abhorrent. 

He hopes it would always have appeared like that to him. Hopes that it's not the connection to Capable that makes it that much worse. That makes it something real, something that makes him feel sick. He doesn't know, and that makes his stomach turn.

The patter of water on tiles quiets down, and after a minute Nux steps out into the living room, shivering, cooling droplets clinging to his body. His towel is around his waist “like a normal, decent person, Slit!”, and he moves to find some clean clothes. Slit makes a noise, gestures at him to come here instead. Nux rubs the cold from his arms, but complies. Folds into the space between Slit's legs and lets Slit wrap muscular arms around him.

“Get hold of her?” Nux asks, rubbing damp, stubbled hair against Slit's cheek.

“Yeah. Told me she needed more time.”

Nux makes a thoughtful noise. Shivers again. Slits rubs warmth into his chest and stomach, fingers automatically following the lines of the scars. He's got them memorised too well not to. But Nux still winces at cold air, so Slit shoves him forward a bit and pulls of his hoodie, dumps it in Nux's lap. It's a size or so bigger than Nux wears, and it's just a little too long in the arms, hangs a little too loosely on his almost skeletal frame. It's enough to make Slit wrap his arms around him again and bury his face in the soft fabric lumpy over Nux's shoulder. It smells like both of them. 

The image of Capable in one of their t-shirts, far too big on her, comes back to him. He must tense up, because Nux says

“Yeah, me too.”

“I just. Miss her. Ain't even been around all that much, but I still fuckin' miss her, how pathetic is that,” Slit says, but Nux isn't fooled.

He grabs Slit's hands in his still too cold ones.

“It's okay. I do too. We'll. Ain't sayin' we'll get her back. Might not. Ain't ours to get. But maybe she can change her mind? Maybe she can decide we're not so bad?”

“Mm. Got to be somethin' we can do, yeah? Show her we're better'n that?”

He presses absent minded kisses to Nux's head, stubbly hair satisfyingly prickly-soft against his lips. Nux is warm against him now. Good. He doesn't actually think Nux will get sick just from being a bit cold for a minute, but he doesn't want to take the chance. And if the most efficient way of keeping Nux snuggly and warm is with body heat, well, that's a burden he'll bear. He nudges the neck of the sweater aside to brush his lips briefly over the smiling faces inked there. It's a warning or a prayer or both. Stay away from him. Keep him safe.

Slit kisses up Nux's neck, and Nux sighs softly. Slit can hear the smile in it. Licks at his ear and Nux huffs a laugh. Trails his lips across the line of scar tissue on his cheekbone, nudging him so he'll turn his head, let himself be kissed proper. Nux cranes his neck, angle uncomfortable, but the soft warm meeting of lips makes it worth it. Their hands are tangled together in Nux's lap. 

“I'm not sure,” Nux says breathlessly, mouth an inch from Slit's, “this is the way to convince her, shine as it is.”

“No?” Slit asks, mock worried frown followed by another brief kiss. “What you think we oughtta do?”

Nux sighs and frowns and Slit can tell he's going to be serious about it, so he leans back a little. Closes his eyes for a moment to just feel the warmth of Nux pressed against him. And realises again that he wishes Capable was here, was a part of half dressed post shower whatever this is. Cuddling is too soft a word and he won't use it. Maybe they could get a slightly bigger couch, one of those with a corner. There'd be more room for three people and- and he's not fucking mentally buying furniture what the fuck. She might not ever want them back. And there's definitely not room for any more furniture than there already is here. And Nux is talking.

“-call him up, yeah? See if he knows what's gone down, if he knows what. Well, y'know.”

“Yeah,” Slit says, not quite sure who Nux is talking about.

“'Cause I just can't believe he'd know an' not- an' not do anythin'. Ain't like him.”

Slit nods against Nux's shoulder. Tightens his arms around him. Nux wriggles uselessly in his grasp.

“Will you, then?”

“Will I what?”

“Call him, Slit.”

“Uh.”

“Call Ace?”

“Sure. 'Bout what?”

Nux sighs dramatically, extricates his hand from Slit's to theatrically touch it to his forehead.

“Why do I even try,” he says.

“Sorry,” Slit mutters. “Was thinkin' bout… 'bout her.”

Nux leans back into him.

“'S fine. I get ya. But that's why we gotta talk to Ace, gotta figure this shit out.”

“True. I'll call him. You go be less naked.”

Slit says this last part with a hint of regret, which Nux notices, going by the smirk he gives Slit as he gets up, fingers trailing over Slit's leg.

Slit fishes the phone up from the carpet. Thumbs up Ace's number and hesitates. He almost doesn't want to know. Because if Ace knew, if Ace knew all along, then where does that leave them? Raised by someone who was aware of the worst shit the Immortan did and still chose to raise his unofficially adopted children there, let them join? Because if Ace has known all along, then Slit and Nux have lost him too.

He presses call.

“Slit,” Ace says, voice carefully neutral.

“Hey. Gotta ask ya somethin'.”

“Yeah? How you boys doin'?”

“Not, uh, not great, to be honest. But that ain't it, not right now.”

“What ya need?”

“Need to tell me what ya know 'bout that raid last year. One where that huge crew went out. Where stuff was taken from the Immortan.”

“What about it?” Ace asks, but there's something in his voice, some hesitancy that makes Slit suspicious.

“What was taken, Ace.”

The line is quiet for a long moment. Slit can hear Nux fumbling with a belt in the bedroom.

“I didn't find out till after,” Ace says in a quiet, defeated voice. “After the older one died, when she was found. I didn't know till then.”

“But you've known, since then? You've known an' you ain't told us? You've kept workin' for that piece of shit?”

“Slit,” Ace says, “it ain't like that. It's. I've...”

“No,” Slit says. “No. Fuck you.”

He hangs up, tosses the phone onto the table where it makes a harsh clacking sound. He checks it, quickly, to see he's not broken it, then walks into the bedroom. Nux is lying on his back on the bed, clothed now, though still in Slit's sweater. 

“Ya hear?” Slit asks, lying down next to him.

“Yeah,” Nux says.

He shifts, sits up against the wall. Slit shuffles until his head rests on Nux's thigh.

“At least he's not known more'n a year or so. Still. It's fucked up he's not told us. Fucked up he's still there.”

Nux rubs Slit's skull, nails long and scratchy. Slit can't help making a pleased noise deep in his throat. It feels too good to care that Nux laughs at him. Slit closes his eyes, tries to block out his worry. Nux keeps scratching his head and he groans again.

“You're ridiculous,” Nux murmurs. “Can't believe people think you're scary.”

“Mmm,” Slit says, “'M terrifyin'.”

“Yeah,” Nux agrees, fondly teasing, “like an angry kitten.”

Slit snorts, kicks half heartedly at Nux's foot and misses. Looks up at Nux, who raises a sceptical eyebrow. 

“Asshole,” Slit murmurs into the stiff fabric of Nux's jeans.

“You love my asshole,” Nux retorts and Slit barks a laugh.

“Dickhead.”

“Really thought that through, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Slit's very, very grateful for Nux. He doesn't say so too often. Isn't sure how to. Just knows if it hadn't been for that skinny asshole he'd be lost. Granted, he's a bit lost anyway. Nothing makes much sense lately. Thrown out of the club and raging about that, then suddenly absurdly grateful it happened, so he didn't have to choose to leave. So when he learned what the Immortan had done he was already mostly done with the club. So he didn't have to make any decision. Capable not liking them, then liking them and then, with very good reason, being appalled at where their loyalties had lain. The liking of them currently unknown, though Dag's text gives him hope. 

Slit's not sure what he'd do if Nux wasn't there to rub his head and make fun of him and tell him it'll be okay. To make him feel better, whatever's going on. Whatever's wrong and confusing and not right. Even when they fight, even when Nux is mad at him, and he usually has a good reason for it, Slit knows that, he makes Slit feel better. Knowing that Nux is a constant in his life. Always has been always will be. Slit knows this. Nux knows it to. It's never been in question, not really. 

“Get any response from any of those applications?” Nux asks after a while, hand on Slit's head now stilled.

“One,” Slit says, “some security shit. Wanted to talk to me next week.”

"That's good."

"It fuckin' better be. Need some good news. Need some fuckin' cash."

"Yeah."

Nux had helped him find possible jobs. Neither has much experience, but Nux is better at those kinds of things. Can formulate letters and shit. Make them say something or than please employ me. Which Slit had written out as a first draft. It's got to have been Nux's part in it got Slit the interview. Everything that's good is generally because of him. Like being nice to Capable, not being a fucking creep like Slit had been. He wants hit something. Himself, maybe. Nux who was charming and sweet and Slit who made her hide him from the fucking police. Slit's a fucking disaster, but Nux makes him better. Maybe Capable makes him better too. Maybe she'll come back if she knows she makes them better.

“Hey,” Nux says. “What's with twitchy anger face?”

“Twitchy anger face's my only face,” Slit mutters.

“C'mon.”

“'S nothin'. Be fine.”

And it will be, because Nux is there. Something vibrates against Slit's head. Nux shoves him gently out of the way and grabs the phone out of his pocket. Thumbs it open.

“Anythin' important?” Slit asks.

Nux makes a non-committal noise, shows Slit the screen.

Capable: need 2 talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who reread that interview where josh helman talks about his girlfriend scratching his head till he purrs certainly not me nuh-huh. who was supposed to write this chapter yesterday also absolutely not me.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry that the plot is thrown together with zero planning. It really is, like you would all be appalled at my process, I am not exaggerating. I am also sorry it's late. I am also so so stoked that people are liking this fic and like. Rereading it? (How? It's so fucking long) It's amazing. And you are all lovely human beings and I love you. Even if you should be not a human being, still loved. Especially if you're a robot because that would be pretty goddamn rad.

They meet at a bar. It's the same one, Slit thinks, that they went to after the concert. He's not quite sure. Most of his memories of that night are of her face. Of Nux's face whenever he looked at her. Excited and fond looks at himself. He wishes they were back then, back before shit got complicated. Before their past fucked everything up. Though that was before they got kicked out of the club. Which is a good thing, he tells himself. Don't want to be in it any more. He doesn't. Doesn't want any part of the Immortan's shit, but it's- 

He finds it's tricky not belonging. Not having the club at his back. Not being part of anything, not part of a group just. Just himself. Not having anything more than what he is to give. 

Nux taps his fingers impatiently on the table, some complicated rhythm. He's talking. To Slit or to himself, Slit isn't sure. He can't follow. He's staring out the window when he spots her, a flash of bright red hair in the crowd. He can't see her face. Nudges Nux, nods in the direction he saw her.

“Shit,” Nux says. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Slit agrees, nudges his shoulder supportively with his own.

Nux looks as nervous as he feels. Or as terrified, if he's being brutally honest. Because this is it, this is their last chance and if they fuck this up it's all over. It'll all go to shit and she won't ever want to see them again, and he's not okay with that. She might, of course, already not want to see them. Might be coming here to do a proper breaking off, but the timing wouldn't fit. So he's got hope.

“It'll be fine,” he tells Nux quietly.

“Fuck off,” Nux says.

They both go quiet when they see her come through the door. Look around squinting in the comparative gloom of the bar's interior. They've chosen a largish table by the window. Plenty of light, not very secluded. Clear route to the door should she want to leave. They discussed how to put her the most at ease but they're not sure they've succeeded. She picked the place, and he supposes that must help. Hopes it does.

She looks great, because she always does, because there's no way, Slit thinks, that she can not. But she also looks tired. Dark smudges in the corners of her eyes. Hair in a messy braid, but strands sticking out everywhere like she's been picking at it. Maybe she's as nervous as them. She grips the strap of her bag tightly.

“Hey,” she says, and sits down.

“Hi,” Nux says.

Slit just nods at her, twisting his face into what he hopes is a careful, reassuring smile. He's not sure they've spent enough time together for her to be able to read his face close enough. He knows his expressions are less clear than they were. Nux's hand twitches on the table, like he wants to reach out to her, so Slit grabs his other hand under the table, fingers curling around each other in comfort and warning. He looks up, sees Capable noticing, sees the ghost of a smile tugging on her lips, and hope surges in him. 

She sits stiffly, clutches her bag in her lap like a shield. Slit bites at the inside of his scars. Gives Nux's hand a quick squeeze.

“You okay?” Nux asks, after long moments.

Capable shrugs.

“I'm not sure.”

“Again, we are so, so sorry, we didn't mean to misle-”

“Don't. Don't keep apologising. Just feels like you've done something.”

“You mean you don't-” Slit begins, and he most sound painfully hopeful and relieved, because Nux drives sharp ragged nails into his palm and he shuts up.

Mumbles an apology, and Capable cocks her head and looks at him like _really_? and he looks down into the scratched plastic of the table. Nux's fingers curl apologetically round his. It's warming. Good to know he's there, but it doesn't ease the worry churning in him. Nervous teeth scraping at the inside of his stomach, unease seeping out of the scars that never healed properly closed.

“I talked to Furiosa,” Capable says. 

She's looking out at the window, pointedly not at them. Not, Slit thinks, out of spite, but because it's hard. He doesn't blame her.

“Said you guys didn't know. Said no one really knew. Not even the guys chasing us. Not at first.”

Slit waits a moment, afraid to interrupt.

“'S true. Was all secret an' mysterious when it happened. No one talked about it. We… we weren't there. Never heard much. Never knew it was y- never knew it was people.”

“I get,” Capable starts, pauses, fiddles with her hair, untangling and rebraiding and still not looking at them. “I get that. That you didn't know. That you couldn't and that you're not somehow worse people than you were a few weeks ago. That other than finding out what happened, nothing's changed but it's hard. To not. Not look at you and see everything that happened to us.”

The thing that gnaws at the inside of Slit twists its fangs in his guts. He looks at her when she finally glances at them and tries to put all the regret and the sympathy and sorrow he feels into it because he doesn't think he can say it properly. Doesn't think he can make the words work for him. And she must see it because she looks sad, like she gets it but it's not enough. And he so, so desperately wants and needs for it to be. Needs them to be enough.

Capable leans her elbows on the table, put her head in her hands and closes her eyes. Sighs softly.

“I don't know how to do this,” she admits and Slit doesn't understand.

“Do you- Do you wants us to leave you alone?” Nux asked, voice steady, but his fingers are crushing Slit's.

She shakes her head. 

“No, I- I don't know. I'm not here to, to you know. Say goodbye and never see you again that's not it, but I'm not sure what to do. How to feel, and I- guys?”

And she looks at them weird. 

“We're good,” Nux says. “Very good. Just-”

“Glad,” Slit supplies. “If this ain't it. If you don't never want to see us again, then-”

“Then we're good. Then we-”

And neither of them finishes that sentence, because she looks like she gets it. A bit amused, but she's almost smiling and that feels like winning. Like it'll be fine, like she might want to trust them again. Not now, maybe. Not for a while. But when she feels ready to.

“See, you do that thing,” she says, and she's looking down at her hands, clasped tightly, on the table. “Where you're both so- so sweet. Where you seem like you could never hurt anyone and I want it all to be okay, but I know you're- I know you've probably done terrible things. Don't look at me like that, like kicked puppies. I read up on the club, okay? Talked with Furiosa, and I know there's no way you didn't, at some point. And I know you were raised in it, that you can't help that bit, but it's. I don't know...”

She frowns, still not looking at them. A few bright red strands have escaped from the braid, are half in front of her face. Slit wants to tuck them behind her ear. Wants to confess everything he's done and wants to never ever let her know about any of it because how do you deal with that? How do you say that you've repeatedly beaten people almost to death. That you've heard someone's bone snap under your fist and been glad. And how do you explain that right now the memories makes you want to rip your own guts out.

Slit chews on his lower lip, frowns. Looks at Nux, whose face seems equally conflicted. They exchange shrugs.

“I want to forgive you for it, for all of it,” she says, and she, too, seems unsure. “But I also don't. I don't want to let you off easy, just because you're cute, just because I like you, just because I can see you holding hands under the table and that's so fucking stupidly adorable it hurts. It doesn't excuse anything. Do you get what I'm saying?”

“That we're cute?” Nux asks, half joking, and Slit shoves him, just a little hard.

But Capable's half smile is sad, so he adds

“We understand. We do, yeah Slit?”

He nods, composes his face into as serious an expression as the carved up smile allows. Which isn't very, because he keeps wanting to smile because she wants to forgive them. Which, he hopes, means she will. Means she feels like she can, eventually. And eventually is pretty goddamn acceptable.

“We get,” Nux begins, frowns. “We get that you can't not see where we come from, what we are or were, right?”

She nods encouragingly.

“That we'll always have been War Boys. An' that it's not easy to get past.”

He struggles with the sentences, each word like another step on a tightrope, wobbly and insecure.

“But we want to be… Want to be better. Like someone ya won't feel bad about likin'.”

Slit nods.

“Feel like shit 'bout some of the shit we've done. Mostly I've done. Not saying it ain't happened, but… Wish it hadn't, yeah?”

Capable nods, looks thoughtful. Looks at each of them like she's got an intense inner debate going on. Stays like that for several quiet minutes. It's tense, neither Slit nor Nux daring to move. Afraid to make her change their mind, like talking or moving or breathing too loud would change anything. The only sounds inside the bar is the clinking of glasses, the woman behind the bar occasionally glaring at their table, where only one half empty beer bottle rests in front of Nux and Slit. The cars hum past outside and Capable stretches her hands out on the table, palms up. Nux and Slit both grab one, and Slit suddenly understands why magic needs so much hand holding because there's something about completing a circle or a triangle or whatever. Like a tiny electric shock.

“I want to try to figure this out with you guys,” Capable says, eyes darting to look them both in the eye.

“Thank you,” Slit says and she frowns again.

“No, no I'm not doing you a favour. I'm-” she grimaces. “I need you to get that. I'm trying to- to decide if I can come to terms with who you are, right? It's not so much to do with me. It's about accepting who you are and what you've done and how that- I don't know, relates to what happened to me and my sisters. And that's gonna take time, you know that, right? It's not just. Just deciding to forgive you and accept you and that's it.”

“We get that. An' we- I mean. I'm glad ya think it's somethin' you can maybe do. I'm- “

“Grateful that it's even a possibility. That you can or think you can...”

Slit squeezes both hands in his. 

“Yeah,” Capable says. “Think I get it. That you do too. That you get it's gonna be a while before it goes back to the way it was. If it can. But I think I want it to, you know?”

-

There's a careful hug when she leaves. Slit and Nux trying to resist the urge to wrap themselves around her and not let go. Trying not to hold her too tight. Not to close her in. But she wraps skinny arms around them both and when she walks out the door they stand there unmoving for a while. Till the woman behind the bar stares at them, till it's weird. Nux's fingers twitching where they're wrapped around Slit's wrists. Slit leans against him.

“I think that went better'n expected,” he says after a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's meant to- I mean. If it's unclear whether it's Nux or Slit speaking here, that is very much on purpose. I want you all to know that.


	31. Re- Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit guys I am very sorry this is so late. I moved to another country, became homeless in another country and then stayed at a friend's place for a week, so there's not been much time to write. I don't blame you if you've given up a bit.

As Capable walks home from the bar she knows a few things. She knows she still, despite everything she's found out, wants to be with these guys. She knows that they want to be with her, because they're painfully obvious about it. But she also knows she can't be with them. Not yet, anyway. Not that she needs to teach them some kind of lesson, not that she's punishing them. It's not even that she's punishing herself. It's that she's got to stop. Got to calm down so her head will stop sending her panic signals whenever she's reminded of War Boys, of their leader, of his actions.

She's kept waking up and panicking, almost as often as she did right after they got out, when every time she'd forgotten they'd got free. When she could feel clammy hands on her wherever sweat soaked sheets touched her and she had to had to get up. And she's still not remembering the dreams, but sometimes there's hints of other things. Pale writhing bodies, around her inside her and it mingles with the terror and leaves her scared and confused. Leaves her wanting desperately to go over to Slit and Nux's place and not wanting to see them again. She doesn't know how to deal with it, doesn't know what to do. So she asks.

“He'll fade,” Dag says. “Fucker'll disappear eventually. Dead and gone and dust, buried under sand. He'll be dead and we'll live and thrive and grow.”

She scowls at the memory, teeth bared, fingers tracing the sharp edges of her rodent skull necklace and leaving small red stripes in her skin. Her surprising kindness to and acceptance of Nux and Slit does not mediate her hatred for the one who hurt them. Dag was violated worse than Capable and Toast. Was made a vessel for his spawn, but it only lived a few months. It might have been the distress, Dag has said, of their escape. A fitting end for it. She has no sympathy for whatever lived inside her, Capable knows. She doesn't know whether she would have felt the same in Dag's position. Whether she could have accepted it. Is glad she never has to find out.

“His actions,” she says, “are not theirs. But that despicable old man… I hope someone destroys his respirator. No unnecessary violence be damned.”

Dag looks at her and Capable can't tell whether or not she agrees. Doesn't offer any clarification. There's a moment of almost awkward silence until they hear footsteps approaching. Small slender hands slide over Dag's hunched shoulders, coming to a rest as Toast kisses the top of her head and asks if everything's okay. 

-

After a few days Slit starts texting her again. Random things, phrasing careful, not quite as familiar as it was, but she appreciates it. Doesn't always reply, but appreciates that he's thinking of her. Nux never has, not like that. It's not, she thinks, his style. Or maybe being at work with fingers constantly covered in engine grease makes using a touch screen hard. Either way the light hearted communication helps. Communicating with dumb emojis is easier than face to face, but she still finds she misses them. 

He gets a job, he texts. Securing something or other. Looking scary enough to put off potential thieves or something. It requires him, she learns, to sit still and stay vigilant a lot, which it turns out he's very bad at. She gets texts about the most random things at night, phone buzzing and lighting up softly. Has to start stuffing it under her pillow so it won't wake Toast. Nux sends some too, to apologise for Slit, but not in a very embarrassed tone. She appreciates it. That they are thinking of her, that her relative radio silence hasn't put them off, hasn't made them give up. However much space and time they think she needs. It's this, at last, that does it. 

It takes her strangely long to summon the courage, to formulate a text. It's like starting over again, almost, but both more and less difficult. There is pressure, she feels. It's made her wait. But it's also only going to get worse and she doesn't want to let herself be paralysed by it. She breathes deep and then, suddenly, in a moment, it's made and gone and sent. And she's sat waiting.

-

They come to the Green Place in the evening, late, after it's closed. Capable's sisters are all upstairs in the flat. Probably they're nervous or listening or something. Paying too much attention to whatever's going on. Usually, at night, if she's down here tidying up the last things or just getting something, she can hear the muted buzz of the TV or music or voices, but as she sits by the window table looking expectantly out into the dark everything is quiet. 

She runs her fingers through her hair until it's a tangled mess as she waits. Foot tapping impatiently on the floor. When she hears the approaching roar of their bikes relief floods her, and something else surges. She watches them park and approach, their silhouettes against the street lights sketching out their movements. They walk close together, very close. All their old pretence is gone and she smiles. 

The greeting is awkward. It almost can't not be. There are half made gestures and the beginnings of hugs abandoned half way through. As they crowd, unnecessarily, round the small table, Capable can see her own feelings reflected in their faces. She leans on her elbows on the table, hands tucked behind her arms. The guys half mirror her, and their faces are so close and the dim lamp light reflects in the different shades of blue and she can smell the beer they had to psych themselves up on their breath. 

“I've missed you,” she admits, at last, looking down into the table. 

When she looks up after a heartbeat as they compete to return the sentiment first, they look so excited. Shy and confident and clearly unsure which they are supposed to be, but unquestionably happy. It makes her insides warm and gooey. 

“How do we do this? How do we, I don't know, start again?”

They look at her, at each other, and shrug. 

“However we want?”

 

It takes a little time, warming up again. Getting back to being natural with each other. They talk. Catch each other up, sort of. For all she's been getting texts from Slit, she's missed things. Like the fact that Slit, after a lot of missed calls from Ace, finally called him back. Like the fact that apparently he and Furiosa had known each other more than the one fight Slit and Nux had witness would suggest.

“What do you mean?” Capable asks, frowning.

“Apparently he was in on it. In a way. They used to know each other, yeah?”

“'S what he said.”

“Been some suspicious details leakin' outta somewhere. Shit bein' secret that shouldn't be. Old man figured it out, bits of it.”

“Met Furiosa at random, far as he said. Got talkin'.”

“Found out they were sniffin' around after the same details, yeah? Some overlap of information. Some plannin' together. Was why the crew went after 'em- after you guys. Why it failed.”

“Fuckin' conspiracy shit goin' down in the club right now, far as I hear.”

“Think the old man got us kicked out on purpose-”

“Nah, he didn't-”

“Why else would he-”

“That piece of-”

“Hey,” Capable interrupts the disjointed explanation.

She gestures for them to calm down and they do and she can't quite figure out what's going on. They look at each other, like there's a mute conversation continuing just between them. Maybe they've already had it. She can't tell, but she needs a moment.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay so. He helped?”

They nod enthusiastically, visibly relieved their adopted dad no longer is a bad guy. Not so much, at any rate. She is too, she supposes. Relieved that there was someone at least partially decent involved in raising them. However late his conscience may have appeared. If Furiosa trusted him, she reasons, there's got to be limits to his badness. Quite low ones, perhaps. She's not sure. Their rescuer and benefactor doesn't talk much about herself and less about her past. But what the boys are saying, jumbled and confused and filtered as it is, does not sound implausible. Not very.

“And Furiosa knew?”

More nods.

“So why...” 

She trails off. It's a discussion for another person and another day. She sighs and leans down on the table, forehead against her forearms. The guys breath sounds jumpy, and there are tentative fingertips at her elbow.

“Are you?”

“It's not wrong?”

“I'm good,” she explains into the fuzzy fabric of her sleeve. “Just confused.”

“'Bout what?”

She looks up. It's Slit who asked. Brows knitted in confusion. She notices his his hair is almost gone again, recently shaved. Sighs. Some habits harder to break and all that. Sits up proper again.

“Why he didn't tell you, I suppose. Why she didn't tell me, wasn't clearer when I asked. She's never been one to say too much, but still. Would've thought.”

“Ace had some bullshit explanation why it was better we weren't told. Plannin' an' shit. Feels like he didn't trust us. Not sure it makes sense,” Nux says.

“Doesn't,” Slit adds. 

“Maybe it's a generational thing,” she mutters, “maybe explaining yourself's a new and scary idea.”

Slit laughs.

“Maybe,” he agrees. 

“Whatever it is,” she says, “I'm glad you told me.”

She reaches out to grab their hands in a gesture meant to seem absent minded, but it's not. Warm fingers curl around hers and she looks between them, annoyed that she can't look them both in the eye at once. She can't read Slit's face, but Nux is smiling bright at her.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” she agrees. 

 

When they leave she realises she doesn't want them to. Tells them so, and is enveloped in a tight hug. The restraint of their last parting is gone, now, it seems, and it's fine with her. Two sets of arms around her and each other and warm bodies pressed together against her. They both, somehow, bury their face in her hair, and she is surrounded by the smell of them. None of them, she thinks, wants to let go. But they do, eventually. She's got her hands on their shoulders, pulls each of them down for a quick kiss before she can stop herself. Nothing deep, no tongues involved, not really, but it feels intense after all the time that's passed. They seem to feel it too. Linger for long moments before disappearing back out into the night. She watches them disappear, and stays by the window for a long time.

She's not quite sure what has happened, who has done what, not yet. But the sense she gets, the image that lurks just beyond coherency, is that they are okay. That they will be, all three of them. Maybe everyone. Or that they were. It's all jumbled in her head. The lights are blinking outside and that and everything is making her head hurt. She'll deal with it later. Her lips still tingle. She'll contact them again soon, she promised. What she wanted to do was to ask if she could come with them, but restraint. Restraint is a thing and she told herself she'd go slow. Even if there's nothing she wants more than the two of them next to her, around her- she'll go slow. They have to figure out the entirety of what's happened. Of what's happening now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, fucking also, there has been _fucking fanart_ made of this fic and I-  
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
>  Fucking !!!!!!!! man that is so cool and you all need to look at it!
> 
> http://warboy-nuxx.tumblr.com/post/128790699027/a-modern-dag-feat-probably-the-best-eye-makeup Is it because I have forgotten how to link again I'm sorry
> 
> Okay. Okay gonna try and do replies and be a communicative human being now-


End file.
